


Bright Star

by Rynfinity



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Twins, Angst, Bigotry & Prejudice, Brothers, Character Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 101
Words: 126,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3342878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As little children the two of them had waged countless battles across those sprawling rock piles.  Sometimes they took on one another; more commonly it was some imaginary enemy only the two of them could see.</p><p>They never fought against the little animals living among the stones, though; Loki has always had a soft spot for animals.</p><p>Thor has always had a soft spot for his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Their place is old, really old. A big rambling farmhouse that's been in Odin's family for generations. Long ago their ancestors had actually worked the farmland - even as recently (although it’s the kind of _recently_ that might just as well be an eternity in the minds of two young boys) as Grandpa Bor's day, Frigga has told them, Odin’s uncle had rented out the fields to neighboring farmers - but as far as they know everything has lain fallow for their father's adult lifetime.

Odin calls himself a consultant. He provides pre- and post-sales support for a big company, one that specializes in farm automation. His business cards and email signature proudly claim that he’s a _Black Belt_. When they were younger Thor and Loki thought that was incredibly awesome; their father, the Suit Ninja. Now they know it's really just something about process improvements.

It sounds incredibly boring, especially in comparison to life as a ninja, but Odin tells them it pays better.

He says a lot of things that make being a grownup sound pretty unappealing.

~

Most of the fences have long since rotted away. There is next to nothing left of the property lines but the snaking, tumbledown ridges of dry-laid stone. Everything is mossy and overgrown with raspberry canes. As little children the two of them had waged countless battles – hour upon hour of imaginary warfare - across those sprawling rock piles. Sometimes they fought against one another; more commonly they banded together against some imaginary enemy only the two of them could see.

They’ve never once turned on the little animals living among the stones, though; Loki has always had a soft spot for animals.

Thor has always had a soft spot for his brother.

He likes the animals, he does. He protects them, though - and always has, since the first dead mouse that had made little Loki cry so inconsolably Thor’d wondered if it was possible for someone to actually die of sadness - for his brother.

~

The collapsed barn, looming even in ruin over its equally ramshackle collection of outbuildings, is the best thing on the property. It is also the farthest off limits; the most strictly forbidden. As long as Thor can remember they’d been told to keep away, but the _extra official_ ban had been in place ever since the summer they were- seven, maybe? The summer when Loki had stepped on a rusty spike and needed sixteen stitches in his foot and three different colors of pills.

The pinkish-orange ones had been huge; Loki’d gagged on every dose, from the first to the last, and Thor had cried right along with him.

Odin had pointed out, not unkindly, that this was just further proof that he’d ordered them not to go in the old barn for good reason.

Their subsequent arguments in favor of playing in the wreckage - they'd done it almost daily for three straight years, with just this one unfortunate incident marring an otherwise perfect record… on top of which they now knew exactly what to watch for - had invariably fallen on the deafest of deaf ears imaginable.

"Let me make this simple: If I catch you in there so much as once, you're both grounded until you graduate high school," Odin had reminded them regularly. Still does, now that you mention it, if perhaps a little less often.

"You know how your father gets when his mind is made up," their mother had told them when they'd gone to her for aid. "He's even more stubborn than you are." She'd knelt and looked them each in the eye, first one sullen twin and then the other. "And he will outlast you. He's had a lot more practice."

When they'd protested further, she'd dropped her joking tone and reminded them seriously (in that voice she always used when they’d been a terrible disappointment) that she simply could not live with herself if one of them was badly hurt. Or worse.

~

For a few of years it had worked. It had scared them straight, because neither of them would ever have – then or now - dreamed of bringing harm down upon their beloved mother. Of _killing_ her.

After that, though, Frigga had gone back to work and the twins had turned crafty. Really, it was Loki who’d turned crafty. He’d made no attempt to hide it from his brother, though, and Thor had made no attempt whatsoever to stop him.

~

"We're banned from _the barn_ ," Loki points out.

They're both keeping their voices low out of long habit, even though their mother won't be home for at least two hours (more, if she gets chatting with her coworkers on the way out to the parking lot… today is Thursday and, this late in the week, that tends to happen quite often) and Odin is in Hawaii until next Tuesday. Their father is, despite appearances, traveling on business. He’s visiting a customer who farms up along the north coast of the Big Island.

"This isn't the barn." Loki nods towards the moldering woodpile that had once – long, long ago - been some kind of workshop. "And if it were to happen to _connect to the barn_ through a tunnel running underneath the brush," he goes on, eyes sparkling, "that would just be a happy accident, wouldn’t it?"

Thor clears his throat. At eleven years old he is no coward. Inside he just might be terrified. Outside he isn’t telling.

~

The interior of the barn is dark and spooky. Over the fallen-down hay mow some of the roof still stands, the big planks in the end wall jutting up against the sky like broken teeth. The air is thick with heavy, swirling dust. Something rustles in the faded straw at their feet, in among a scattering of rotten shingles.

Thor jumps. His sudden movement flushes out a bird. It flutters and flaps, squawking indignantly, just over their heads before swooping into the hay mow to perch – still chittering angrily – up among the twisted rafters.

“Huh,” Loki says when their hearts are beating again. “I wonder what’s up there.”

“No, Loki,” Thor pleads, but his brother is already climbing.

He’s not sure which of them screams when Loki falls. Maybe they both do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki has to go to the hospital...

Loki hits the debris-strewn floor, over in the weedy undergrowth that tends to spring up wherever there happens to be sunlight, with a loud, cracking thud.

Afterwards, there's nothing but silence. For a long moment that feels impossibly longer, even the ever-present background hum of summer - the sounds of birds and bugs and windblown grass - stops and Thor thinks Loki must- must have- he can't even say it to himself. He can't.

They are in so much trouble.

It takes Thor several seconds to come unstuck, to suck in a frightened gasp and start moving. By the time he finally does, his brother is wriggling and whimpering. "Are you all right," he asks Loki, stupidly. There's a lot of blood, enough that he feels sick just looking at it. "Please be all right."

Wishing never makes it so. Even at this age Thor knows that.

Loki coughs weakly. Blood bubbles at the corner of his mouth. His eyes are closed and his face is bone-white and sweaty. "Loki," Thor begs, "you have to be okay. Talk to me."

"Sorry," Loki whispers. His eyelids flutter. "Owww."

Thor breathes a huge sigh, half relief and half terror. "What hurts," he asks, because he has to say _something_. "Stay with me," he tacks on as an afterthought. It's what the grownups on TV always tell sick people to do.

"Can't. Breathe." Loki's voice is wet and raspy. "Up." One of his shoulders is pushed forward, that arm curled across his chest. Even through his bloodstained shirt, he looks- deformed. Thor's stomach rolls.

"I- I don't know what to do," Thor says. He reaches out. Loki's hand is cool and clammy.

"Up," Loki gurgles, clawing at Thor's arm.

Their mom used to be a nurse, before they were born. Thor's been warned about moving injured people; they both have, over and over again until they know it by rote. Still, Loki is scrabbling and choking and Thor knows he has to _do something_. He cradles his brother's head, the way he knows he's supposed to when he’s holding his baby cousins, and pulls Loki up by the normal-looking shoulder.

His brother slumps against his chest. Loki is sticky and bloody and wet, and Thor's head spins.

~

He's long since run out of actual things to talk about and is babbling sore-throated nonsense by the time he hears Frigga's car bumping down the long driveway. "Loki," he rasps, "I have to get mom."

"N-no," Loki whispers against Thor's chest. He's shaking. It's the first time he's spoken in at least half an hour, although he's been coughing feebly.

Thor is crying. "I'll be right back," he says. "I can't carry you, not out of here." He carefully props Loki up against a broken beam. "I promise." _And you'd better hang on until I get back_ , he doesn't say, as much as he wants to. Instead, he turns and runs.

~

Frigga stops cold when Thor races up to her, smeared with blood and tears. "M-mom," he stammers, "L-Loki's hurt b-bad."

She sets her bags carefully down in the grass. She's very calm, just like always. He never understands how she does it. "Where is he," she asks as Thor tugs frantically at her arm.

He swallows hard. "In the barn." He cringes, waiting for sharp words.

None come. "Can you take me to him," his mother asks instead.

Thor nods.

~

Loki is slumped right where Thor’d left him, leaning against the beam with head lolling and blood dripping. "My god," Frigga exclaims, in a tone of voice Thor isn't sure he's ever heard her use before. "Thor, honey, I need you to go back up to house and call for an ambulance," she tells him, sounding more like herself again. "Can you do that for me?"

He nods. She's already kneeling, one hand gently touching his brother's face.

"Right now," she says. "And hurry."

They've practiced this for years. When you live on a farm in the middle of nowhere - even if it's not really a farm anymore - you need to be self-sufficient. That's what Odin has always told them. Their mother depends on them when she's home alone.

The number is on a sticker on the phone. Thor calls, giving the nice man who answers all their information just like he and his parents have always rehearsed. "My brother fell," he explains, voice shaking. "We live at 18 Apple Orchard. There's a big old oak out by the road. My brother is in the barn. It fell in," he adds, in case they miss the place looking for an actual standing barn nearby. "No no," he clarified when the man asks for details. "That part happened a long time ago."

He runs back to the barn as fast as his legs will carry him, which is pretty fast. Thor is a strong runner; he always has been.

He doesn't bother being careful. There’s no point, since they're already grounded for life. Assuming Loki doesn't- doesn't... _no_. Thor leaps right in at the front gate, through the broken rolling door, and skids to a stop in front of his mother. He blinks in the sudden darkness. "Is he-?"

"Your brother is badly hurt," she tells him soberly. "But everything will be fine. I do need your help again."

He'll do anything, anything at all, if it will just save Loki.

"Go out to the road and wave them down," she tells him. "And Thor,” she adds, “please be careful!"

He goes, after one last sidelong look at his shaking, panting brother.

~

It takes the ambulance a long time to get all the way out to their farm. When at last he sees and hears it coming up the road, its siren echoing off the trees, Thor jumps up and down and waves his arms until his shoulders burn.

They pick him up at the end of the driveway.

The ambulance smells chemically, like strong soap and disinfectant. Thor feels very grown-up directing the crew, in their white shirts and dark pants, to the barn. At least, he would on a better day. Today, he's just frightened.

They let him help carry their medical things. On another day, that would be cool too.

~

"I'm Paul," the medic – the one with the stethoscope and the little bag - tells his mother. "And this is Marcus. What seems to be the problem?"

"You tell them," she encourages Thor. "You were here when it happened."

"My brother fell from the hay mow," he says, looking at his own feet. "He couldn't breathe so I sat him up. I'm sorry. There was lots of blood," he adds, which is a stupid thing to say because everyone can _see_ that. "I don't think he's okay." That's stupid too, but he can’t help it.

~

Packaging his brother up takes forever. Loki screams once. It sounds so much like a dying rabbit that Thor has to run outside and puke in the long grass. When he wipes his mouth and staggers back inside, only to stumble over something just inside the door, the ambulance driver - _Marcus_ , they'd said - stops him.

"Do me a favor," Marcus says, "and go back out to the roadway. The fire department is coming. To help carry your brother," he explains when Thor frowns in confusion.

"I'm strong for my age," Thor insists. "I can help."

The driver smiles. "I'm sure you can, but they have some special equipment we need. Thanks, kiddo." He steers Thor back out the door.

"Is he going to be okay?"

Marcus nods. “Kids are pretty tough so, yeah, I think so."

~

It's not a very big fire truck, as fire trucks go. It's kind of disappointing, actually; more like a standard pickup, only painted red. The two firefighters climb down and pull a big orange basket out of one of the roller-door compartments beside the tailgate. "You okay, kid," one of them asks him.

He’s not. His hands and shirt are sticky with Loki's blood, and he can still feel his brother's weight limp against his front. "Yessir," Thor says briskly. "What do you need me to do?"

~

It's all a bit of a blur after that. The four men carry Loki out of the barn, pale and bloody and painfully small amongst all the orange straps and pads. Frigga follows close behind them. The stiff white plastic collar around Loki's skinny neck is smeared with drying blood.

Loki's eyes are closed; when Thor says his name, nothing happens.

"Is he-," Thor starts and Frigga puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Loki can't hear you with those foam blocks around his head," she reassures him. "Now go up to the house and wait there, you hear? I'll have Mrs. Wallace come stay with you, just as soon as she can."

Mrs. Wallace lives up the road a couple of miles. Her son and daughter are grown-ups now. In a pinch she can almost always come watch Loki and Thor. Normally Thor would feel a bit put out about needing a _babysitter_ , because he and Loki are old enough to look after themselves. Right now, though, all he feels is small… and lonely.

Frigga turns to wave as Marcus gives her a hand up the steps into the passenger seat.

Thor stands in the middle of the driveway watching the ambulance until it climbs the little hill by the old Timmerman farm and disappears from view. Once it's gone, he trudges back up to the house - without looking at the barn, not once - and lets himself in at the kitchen door.

He cries for a while. When that doesn't help anything, he changes out of his bloody, dirt-smeared clothes and - in a clean shirt and jeans, with scrubbed-pink face and hands - goes back downstairs. He's not at all hungry. In the end he just sits in the parlor, shaky and frightened, feeling like he's waiting for Judgment Day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki comes home from the hospital but summer just isn't the same.

Mrs. Wallace stays until Sunday, at which point Odin comes back from his business trip early.

She brings Thor with her twice a day when she goes back to her own property to look after her horses. He knows better than to protest, since he's in _so much trouble_. Plus, he likes both horses - their velvety noses, their mobile, pointed ears, the way he feels small but safe around them - anyway. It’s nice to spend time with them, even if that time is spent shoveling manure and swatting biting flies. Taking care of the horses helps keep his mind off- off of _other things_.

Frigga calls the house to visit with Thor daily, from what she tells him is the phone in the hospital corridor outside his brother's room. There is a lot of background noise, so much that he can't imagine how the sick people sleep. "Is he okay," he asks every time. "Is he scared without me?"

Thor, though he isn’t admitting it to anyone, sure is scared without Loki.

The twins have never been apart – not for more than a few hours at a time - in their lives. They've been inseparable, pretty much right from the moment of conception.

He can't imagine it any other way. More than that, he doesn’t want to have to.

His mother patiently explains that the doctors are giving Loki medicine so he can sleep, because sleep is such an important part of getting better. "As soon as he wakes up," she promises, "I'll tell him you love him and miss him."

"When is he coming home," he asks, his voice wobbly. "When are _both of you_ coming home?"

Not for a few days, she explains, and then she asks to talk to Mrs. Wallace. Every day their conversation follows this same pattern. Every day, Thor still can’t wait to talk to his mother anyway.

~

When Odin arrives Thor bites the inside of his cheek in a failed attempt to keep from crying. He's surprised when his father hugs him tight, since this is at least as much his fault as it is Loki’s. He’s a day older – the twins were born on opposite sides of midnight – and that makes him the big brother. Big brothers are supposed to be responsible. "I know I'm grounded," he squeaks out against the force of his father’s embrace. "I'm so sorry."

Odin squeezes him even tighter. Thor lets all the air whoosh out of his chest. "Let's not worry about that now,” his father says. “We'll talk about what to do once your brother comes home. Now go help Mrs. Wallace look after Blue and Charlie. Afterwards, I’ll come get you and we'll rustle ourselves up some supper."

~

Loki is in the hospital for more than two weeks. Close to three weeks, really. Frigga stays with him the whole time.

Thor misses them both so, so badly.

Odin has to take time off from work. He spends some of each day on the phone with his customers anyway, and Thor feels by turns happy to have so much time with his father and guilty for taking Odin away from everyone else who depends on him.

"So, tell me; what’s wrong with Loki that he needs to sleep so much," Thor finally dares to say to his father over dinner on their seventh day alone together. He thinks he's ready to face the whole consequences of their disobedience but, as Odin lists off the _high points_ \- broken collar bone, broken scapula, concussion, bruises on one lung and one kidney - Thor almost wishes (okay, no _almost_ ; he's sure of it) he hadn't brought the topic up at all. He should have gone on pretending Loki was just terribly sleepy.

Because now he can’t.

He lies awake that night, tossing and turning, trying (despite himself) to picture what a bruised lung might look like and wondering if it hurts terribly. When he finally drifts off to sleep, he dreams of being chased by an army of bleeding kidneys. Thor wakes panting and sweaty with his heart racing, over and over and over again.

In the morning he’s pretty sure he feels worse than he would have if he hadn't slept at all.

~

Odin takes Thor to the hospital with him when he goes to pick up Loki and Frigga. The two of them wait at the car together, by the door that says "Discharges." Loki is in a wheelchair, all wrapped up in a white blanket. He’s sick-looking, like old people, and his pinched little face is almost as white as his blanket. Thor has to blink and blink and swallow and swallow.

Loki slumps against him in the back seat, just like he did in the barn on the day of the fall. This time, though, he’s warm and dry and not shaking.

Thor has given up his customary spot so his brother's _bad side_ won't bump against anything. The seat cushion isn't the right shape to fit his bottom, but Thor vows he'll get used to it. He kisses the top of Loki's head and pretends his brother doesn't smell exactly like their doctor's office.

~

They never do get grounded, really.

~

The first few days he’s home Loki is still groggy and chock full of medicine. He can't tolerate the sunlight because of the concussion, their mother tells Thor, so the boys spend their days in their shared bedroom - with the shade pulled and the curtains drawn. The house is plenty big enough for them to have rooms of their own, but they’ve never wanted it that way. They’re meant to be together.

Thor tells Loki stories just to have something to keep himself occupied. Loki sleeps.

The very first day Loki is finally well enough to venture farther than the little upstairs bathroom, weak and shaky and walking like Grandpa Bor on the day after a big holiday, their parents sit them down together on the long sofa in the living room. Frigga pulls up a tufted ottoman; Odin stands behind her with his big hands on her shoulders.

Neither parent lectures, exactly. There's a lot of earnest talk about how one of the twins could have died, and about how maybe now they will understand that rules are to protect them and not to punish them.

Both boys sit there in silence, nodding, with quivering lips and tears streaming down their faces. Thor holds Loki's good hand, the one that isn't in a sling, in his own. He silently promises he'll never let go again.

~

Thor's punishment is assuming all of Loki's duties. Along with all of (his own, and) Loki's chores, Thor is placed in charge of helping his brother dress and wash and eat. He is responsible for making sure Loki does all of the odd little exercises on the many sheets of paper that came home with Frigga, every day, and of keeping his brother out of trouble.

Loki's punishment is losing an entire summer, right at the age where summer is heaven and a few warm months feels like forever.

~

Odin makes arrangements with a company in town to, with the help of some family friends and the guys at the lumberyard, dismantle (and remove) the remains of the barn and all its outbuildings. It should have been done long ago, he tells Frigga sadly, because it's just too much of a temptation. He should have known better.

Every time his father says something like that, his voice tired and flat and heavy with sorrow, Thor feels like the worst son - the most terrible brother - in the entire universe.

When Thor tells Loki about Odin, his brother says the same thing.

Thor isn't quite sure he believes Loki, though.

~

They really do lose their whole summer, too.

There isn't any hiking and there isn't any swimming. They don't get to lie on the little wooden dock and watch turtles sunning at the edge of the pond. No one chases butterflies. They don't play and they don't run and they quickly tire of even their beloved reading.

Taking care of someone else ends up being a whole lot more work than taking care of yourself is, and the twins sometimes lose patience with one another. Loki hurts and that leaves him frustrated with anything and everything.

Each day when the chores and exercises are finally done the two of them sit out on the porch and watch workmen dismantle their fantasy world one beam at a time. They're expressly forbidden to come any closer.

This time, they listen.

Plus, it’s sad enough just watching from the house. They’re not sure they want to be right in the middle of it.

After a few weeks the barnyard is just another field, maybe a little lumpier and browner than the others.

~

The lost season wears on. Before long there are fireflies in the yard at night. Loki sits on the porch and fidgets, slapping angrily at the mosquitos he can reach with his free hand.

Mosquitos may be the only critters out there to which his boundless love of animals doesn’t extend.

Thor catches the lightning bugs carefully in big glass jars and brings them to the porch to share with his brother. The two of them watch the slow and fast blinking and wonder what it means. They'd love to break the code, because it’s obvious there has to be one. Maybe someday they will.

And then they let the fireflies go, like they always do.

This summer, though, as they sit together watching the bugs fly away into the night, both boys really, really wish they could disappear into the starlit sky right along with them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Progress happens.

It’s the start of the second week in August, only three precious weeks before the Odisons are due back in school, when Loki finally gets his doctor’s approval to take his sling off.

A few days earlier Loki’d gotten some hardware removed from his shoulder (he and Thor know they’re undoubtedly picturing the whole thing wrong somehow; they laugh together about the doctor removing two big hinges and a door bolt, but the smallish incisions he’d been sent home sporting don’t support that particular theory). It didn’t sound like much, but it still counted as _surgery_ and left him really hurting.

The whole thing had felt like a setback but apparently wasn’t one. A second surgery _had_ meant a few more days of groggy medicated half-sleep, which had made it seem all too much like they’d been sent all the way back to the beginning to start completely over. The next week, though, they’d quickly discovered that Loki was able to do his exercises just as well as – and maybe even better than – before. Not only that but the most frustrating drill, the one where he had to take off his sling (with Thor’s help) and tiptoe his fingers up and down the wall until he felt like his whole side was going to fall off, was actually the most improved.

Not that the exercise was any more pleasant (it wasn’t… it still hurt like crazy and left him a little dizzy). It was just that he could finger-tiptoe a lot farther.

~

Odin has been back to work since early July. Frigga had taken a few days off for Loki’s recent surgery, and had worked a few half-days here and there to cover his doctor’s visits, but the twins had largely been left to their own devices. With, of course, a lot more parameters set around what acceptable _devices_ might mean – and what the consequences of not adhering to the rules would be - than they’d ever had before. Specifically, they’d been expected to keep to the same arrangement they’d been following since the beginning: Thor doing the chores and the supervising, Loki doing the getting better. They were not to leave the mowed section of the yard, not unless (one of a very short list of grown-ups was with them, or) the house was on fire.

The good part, from the twins’ perspective, was that they were not supposed to go anywhere without the new, prepaid cell phone Odin had gotten them. A cell phone has been one of the few things they’ve been wanting for ages… and been denied just as long.

Until now. It makes being punished feel better. A whole lot better.

Of course, the phone - they’d been made to understand on the day their father had given it to them - was _only_ for emergencies. Still, just having it at all Is pretty darned amazing.

~

Loki is of the personal opinion that they can probably expand the definition of _emergency_ over time, as long as they make very, very sure to behave responsibly until school starts again. Thor hadn’t been – isn’t, even now – quite so certain. Still, time will tell. They can hope, and hoping is what they’ve been doing from very first second they’d started unpacking the little slice of glass-and-metal perfection. They’re still hoping.

Sharing it isn’t a problem. They’re twins; they share everything.

~

Thor isn’t allowed to go into the little room with his brother when the technician takes Loki’s x-rays. It’s something about unnecessary exposure to radiation, which makes Thor wonder what exactly is going on in there… and if maybe Loki will turn into the Incredible Hulk without him. He’s not sure if he should ask their mother about that later. 

He decides he’ll discuss it with Loki – another day, when they’re safely back home and tucked away in bed - and go from there.

Once the x-rays are done and over with Frigga lets them wait together on the high table in the exam room. They sit as close as they can, Thor with one arm slung companionably around his brother’s hip (since Loki’s shoulder still hurts most of the time, and Thor’s arm is kind of heavy) and Loki resting against Thor’s side. He can feel the tension coming off his brother’s body. “Did the x-rays do something to you,” he whispers, when Loki shivers for the third or fourth time. “Did they hurt?”

Loki looks at him, a little baffled, and then smiles. “No, hah, that part was nothing. I’m just nervous.”

Thor gets it. He’s nervous too.

~

The doctor couldn’t be more pleased with Loki’s progress. They run through a subset of the exercises Thor has been helping his brother with every day, and after each one the doctor praises something: how high Loki can reach, how flexible Loki is, how strong Loki’s grip feels.

“Son,” he says at the end, “I can tell you’ve been very responsible about doing exactly what I asked you to. You may not believe me but mark my words; years from now you’ll be glad you put in all this time and effort.”

Loki beams, even though Thor can tell from the tightness around his eyes and mouth that he’s tense and sore and tired. “My brother has been my coach,” Loki tells his doctor. “He’s the one who’s made sure I did these right, over and over.”

Thor can feel his own face reddening. “It was one of my jobs this summer,” he says to Loki’s doctor. Well, to his own knees and Loki’s hand, really.

“You’ve been very good at it,” the doctor says, and Thor knows he must be getting even pinker. “Have you ever thought of being a Physical Therapist when you grow up?”

It’s nothing he’s ever considered (not that he has a plan anyway) but he promises he will think about it. Frigga saves him in the end; she tells the doctor the two of them are already growing up way too fast and she doesn’t need him encouraging them.

“He _is_ good at it, mom,” Loki points out.

She kisses them each, one at a time, on their foreheads. “You’re right,” she tells Loki. “Your brother helped you a lot. I’m proud of both of you.”

When Thor sneaks a peek at Loki, his brother’s cheeks are bright pink. He figures they must be at least as red as his own.

~

That night Thor graciously offers Loki the top bunk – they normally switch back and forth every time their sheets go in the wash, since the top bunk is the better bunk and it’s only fair not to hog it – because his brother has been unable to climb up there all summer.

It doesn’t work out that way, though. They curl up together on the bottom bunk, still mindful of Loki’s sore shoulder but happy to be rid of the scratchy, bulky (and rather smelly after all this time, at least if they’re being honest) sling, and accidentally fall asleep reading one of their parents’ old comics.

Frigga stops in on her way to bed. She gently slides the comic out of Loki’s hand, and turns off the light… and then backs carefully out the door without waking either one of them.

“They’re fine,” she tells Odin. “We’re so lucky.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to school, in all its glory...

The last bit of summer is always the hottest. It’s a miserable time to be stuck around the house. Day after day the weather is stifling; there’s no breeze at all and the air is thick with bugs and dust. The pond is just over the next hilltop, up one small slope from and down another from where the barn _used to be_.

It might as well be on another planet for all the good it does them.

Loki finally has both hands free and is able to help out with the chores again. His left arm is weak and uncoordinated after eight weeks of confinement, and he’s supposed to be really careful not to overdo it, but for a few days it’s so nice to be doing _something_ that he doesn’t even try to use that as the perfect excuse it otherwise could be. He doesn’t want to get out of anything. Even helping clean the bathroom is a nice break from moping around with a sling on.

Okay, maybe _that’s_ a bit of an exaggeration.

~

In addition to being responsible for taking care of their regular chores, the twins are still under strict orders to (among tons and tons of other things… they’ve positive they’ve never before been boxed in by even half as many rules) continue working their way through Loki’s physical therapy exercises. Loki has now heard the annoyingly patronizing advertising tagline behind this particular activity (“later in life you’ll be glad you listened”) so many times that he complains to Thor about what he calls _the real danger of it driving him crazy_. Neither of them is in any position to complain, though.

Loki and Thor know they have no choice but to do what they’ve been told, regardless of whether or not they’re going to be glad about it someday.

~

Their father had made them a big chart early on, at the point when he’d been off work and Loki had only just gotten home from the hospital, with measurements up the side and days across the bottom. It’s divided by exercise, with lots of lines and bright colors. He’d hoped they might find it motivating.

All summer the boys have been diligently using it to track their – _Loki’s_ , officially, but there’s been a lot of teamwork involved throughout and Loki’s been regularly surprised by just how much he’s had to rely on his brother – painfully slow-feeling progress. It’s working, too: they _do_ feel motivated. Every day they make an effort to do one more set, to reach a little higher, to stretch a little farther and twist a little more smoothly. Anything to make the chart look better.

Most days, they get there. It hurts and sometimes Loki cries by the end, but they get it done.

With this heat doing the routine feels harder than ever before. They both end up drenched and stinky, but they’ve made it this far so they do it anyway. It helps a little bit that, with the weather so oppressively hot and the two of them working extra-hard, Thor lets Loki pass his tears off as sweat.

It doesn’t help a _lot_ , but it’s better than nothing.

And when it all gets to be too much, Thor gently rakes Loki’s dripping hair back from his sweaty face and reminds him that they have to do everything they can to help him heal properly.

Privately, Loki isn’t sure you _should_ heal properly from a failed attempt at flying. Look at Icarus.

He doesn’t say that aloud, though. Thor would never understand. That, and his brother will tell mom and dad. Thor won’t mean to, but it’s guaranteed to happen. Loki is sure of it. He’s equally sure the very last thing they need is a chance to spend even more time not quite being grounded.

~

At dinnertime on the last day of summer break, Odin stops by the twins’ bedroom and takes a pleased look at their chart. “I’m proud of you two,” he tells them. Frigga nods from where she’s standing just behind him. “I think we should keep this and frame it.” Thor beams, like Loki just got some kind of medal.

Loki isn’t quite sure how he feels about having a framed monument to- to abject failure hanging on their bedroom wall. Everyone else is smiling, though, so he fakes it.

~

Going back to school is uncomfortable for Thor and pretty much terrifying for Loki. This is their first year in middle school, which means they’ve gone from being the _big kids_ all the way back down to being the little ones. Their friends are all there somewhere, but it’s not like before. This is a much bigger school, with students from all over this part of the county.

There’s no more sitting with the same people all the time; they have to switch from room to room and take actual classes.

~

Thor starts the year straw-haired and strong and golden from his summer of chores.

Loki – by contrast - starts the year scrawny and pale and favoring his bad shoulder, with a note that gets him out contact sports and another one that reminds his teachers he’s expressly not to be bullied.

~

The whole grade level takes physical education together. Thor plays basketball and volleyball and flag football that’s almost rough enough to be the real thing. Loki plays a little tennis, but he kind of sucks at it because he can’t twist properly (or cheat and stealthily use both hands to support his backhand).

There’s lots of wincing and a fair amount of swearing.

Some of the older guys, outside enjoying a free period, whistle and say that with those legs Loki should be wearing a tennis skirt.

For that moment Loki forgets he can only punch one-handed. Thor has to step in and mop up after him, which is pretty much worse than just getting solidly beaten.

~

They’re unable to convince the assistant principal that she shouldn’t call their parents, which seems terribly unfair. Thor reminds her that Loki isn’t supposed to be bullied. She counters with the argument that it’s hard to defend them given that Loki hit the other kid first.

Thor and Loki exchange a long, eye-rolling look and say nothing. Talking _more_ about tennis dresses isn’t going to help anyone.

~

In health class they learn about their bodies. In theory, at least. Loki and Thor have already gotten pretty much the same information at home, and their parents do a much better job with it. Plus, at home they don’t have to suffer through the strained jokes and the giggling.

When it’s time for the gory details, their teachers split them into two groups… boys in one room, girls in the other.

Someone asks Loki if he’s in the wrong room. “This room is all the _guys_ ,” the kid teases. “You know, the ones with _dicks_.”

“Penises,” Loki corrects. Their parents always insist that they use the proper words for things.

“Like you would know,” the kid huffs. “No way do you _have_ one.”

Except Loki, of course, does. He has one just like everyone else’s.

Which is why he whips his out: to prove it.

~

Frigga has to leave work early to come and talk to the principal about her son’s _exhibitionist behavior_. She sticks up for Loki – for both of them - and doesn’t raise her voice, although from the look on her face the twins know they’re going to be in trouble later.

“It wasn’t that,” Loki insists afterwards. “They don’t believe I’m a guy. No one does. And don’t even start with the _sticks and stones_ thing.”

Thor wraps Loki in what ends up being a cross between a hug and a headlock. “ _I_ believe you’re a guy,” he says, with a toothy grin. “You sure stink like one.” He sniffs loudly. “Or a goat, maybe.”

Their mother threatens to send them to bed without dinner.

They pout beautifully (meaning _effectively_ ) and end up with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at the kitchen table.

“Your father isn’t going to like this,” she warns them. “Not any of it.”

Loki snorts. “So don’t tell him?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WInter break is... nice.

By the time the winter holidays roll around Loki is about as healed as he's going to be. He hasn't really put much weight back on – recovering from an accident takes a lot out of a person, evidently, and so do mean classmates - but he's able to run around and smack Thor between the shoulder blades with snowballs like nothing had ever happened. They spend as much time together as they can while they're off from school; Thor is simultaneously getting caught up on his neglected _twin quota_ and trying to inoculate his brother against the crap Loki had been stuck tolerating.

Loki hides his struggles as best he can. Most of the time their parents seem completely oblivious, although Frigga occasionally lets Thor catch her looking worried.

Those days, Thor suspects she knows more than she's letting on. He’s not sure if he should feel frightened or reassured.

Around Thor Loki is usually still as relaxed and playful as always. He smiles openly and cuddles happily and it's like none of it - none of- of anything bad - ever happened.

Keeps happening.

Except it does, over and over, and it hurts Thor to see it. He just doesn’t know what to do.

At school, Loki is- standoffish; aloof, haughty, a little angry. He bluntly refuses to let on – to anyone, not even Thor – that the constant bullshit ever gets to him. That it eats away at him and leaves him hurting and teary when he thinks no one is there to see. 

Rather then allowing any of his pain to show, Loki marches through the halls with his head held high like the haters aren't even there at all.

There's a cost to all that rigid self-control, at least from where Thor is standing: No one likes being thwarted. The more Loki doesn't react, he more he refuses to acknowledge that anything is going on, the harder the bullies - the so-called _popular kids_ , who Thor increasingly suspects are mostly popular because the other kids are afraid to stand up to or speak out against them... no one wants to be the next _Loki_ , after all - try to force a reaction.

~

Frigga tells Thor that he’s right about middle school popularity. She tells him that it's not about Loki; it's about winning.

Thor tells Loki what their mother says; his brother nods sharply, like it makes sense. Something in Loki's face, though, makes Thor wish he'd never even brought the subject up at all.

~

As the school year wears on Loki withdraws, slowly but surely, further and further into himself. Thor tries his best to be there for his twin, but he can’t find a way to help. He can’t do anything, even though he desperately wants to.

The girls talk about his brother behind cupped hands, playing at keeping secrets while at the same time being as loud and obnoxious as possible.

The boys - especially the big, well-known kids from the working farms who will go on to be stars on the ball field - are worse.

Differently bad, maybe – it’s hard to say which is more hurtful, especially when Loki is busy pretending none of it’s happening at all.

The popular boys – the would-be jocks - knock Loki's books out from under his arm whenever he carries them _properly_ and push him into the nearest row of lockers with a loud clang when he abandons his usual approach and instead clutches his scattered papers to his chest _like a girl_.

They splash him with horrible old lady perfume at the urinals and kick the doors open when he uses a stall instead. They leave (fake) notes from other guys in his locker, sneak bras - not the nice lacy ones; dumpy, stained, stretched old things they must have stolen from their mothers’ garbage - into his gym clothes and leave tape-laden signs ( _kick me_ , _loser_ , _I’m a girl_ , and a few things that don’t bear repeating) in his chairs.

Loki cries about it at night when he thinks Thor is sleeping. He never does go back to the top bunk.

Thor tells his brother they should tell the assistant principal. Loki reminds him precisely how far that didn't get them - get _him_ \- in the aftermath of what they now refer to in secret as the Great Tennis Dress Incident.

Thor thinks they should tell their mother.

Loki has been reading a lot of law and crime novels. He tells Thor that's just yet another piece of Exhibit A.

It doesn’t make sense, any of it. Still, because he (has no idea what Loki is talking about, really, but) doesn't want to sound stupid Thor (stupidly) agrees.

~ 

At any rate, with all that crap going on around them, they need a few days off. The free time around the holidays stretches out before them, and both of them are determined to enjoy it.

~

They do manage to enjoy their winter recess, even with snow dumped down their necks and packed into their boots and mittens.

Today their mostly-pretend fighting brings them to the very top of the hill by the pond; gravity carries them back down. They tumble together like a couple of shrieking logs until they come to rest at the water’s frozen edge.

The two of them howl and wrestle until they’ve gotten themselves all wedged up against the cattails.

Without trying Thor winds up mostly on top. He and Loki laugh in each other's faces, panting and shaking off clumps of snow, until something about the way they’re pressed together abruptly feels _heavy_ and awkward. Loki dumps his brother the rest of the way off, wriggles out from underneath, and pulls himself halfway to sitting.

They're both blushing, more than cold air alone can explain. Thor takes Loki by the shoulders. He pushes and pulls until the two of them have to face one another.

Loki makes as if to kiss his brother on the cheek and then feints. He shoves Thor onto one side in the snow and runs for it.

They race back up the hill. This time, when he catches Loki by the arm and spins his brother around, _Thor _is the one who dives in for a quick peck.__

__It's meant to be nothing more than a friendly smooch on the nose but Loki is squirming and Thor misses._ _

__Or doesn't._ _

__He kisses his brother full on the mouth. Loki’s lips are warm and cold at the same time. It’s nothing like he expected._ _

__"Gross, Thor," Loki squeals when the earth starts turning again. From the look on his face, though, that isn’t what he's thinking._ _

__That's okay; Thor isn't thinking anything like that either._ _


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frigga's right - life isn't fair.

Sif and Fandral stop over towards the end of the holiday break. It’s been snowing for days and the drifts are more than waist deep; the rolling fields around the old farm are perfect for snowshoeing. Loki comes out with them. Everyone has a good time, nothing feels awkward or forced, and Thor relaxes for the first time in what feels like- like it’s been since before Loki’s fall.

They spend hours walking, all afternoon really, first following the edge of the pond and then heading off across the abandoned pastures. Out by one of the hedgerows they find a series of round, packed deer nests among the bushes; they don’t see any deer, not today, but it’s worth the walk anyway.

When they get back to the house, with sweaty bodies and burning thighs, their mother is home from work. She smiles at them as they stomp their feet on the mudroom mats and shed sweaty layers of clothing. Sif hasn’t been over to visit since early summer, when her own mother had sent her over with a card for Loki and a tuna noodle casserole for Odin and Thor. Frigga hasn’t seen her since the end of school last year, probably. “Look at you,” she exclaims as Sif strips unashamedly down to a tank top and long johns. “You’ve gotten so tall, and so strong!”

Sif laughs. “This way I can beat up the people that pick on Loki,” she says, and the twins freeze. “What did I say,” she asks, looking back and forth between them. “You know I can kick any a- _butt_ ,” she amends, looking quickly at Frigga, “in the whole school.”

“I know _I_ wouldn’t want to cross you,” Frigga agrees. She shoots both Thor and Loki a look, the kind that says they’ll be having a Big Discussion over dinner. “Now, who wants some fresh, warm cookies?”

Fandral, always quick to jump on free food, trails close behind their mother. Sif holds back for a moment and whispers “what did I do?”

Thor opens his mouth to say something but Loki beats him to it. “Nothing,” his brother tells her. Loki’s grinning but through the eyes his face looks anything but happy. “Inside joke, tell you some other time.”

Sif studies Loki like she knows he’s lying. “Go,” he tells her, pointing towards the kitchen. As she turns to obey he looks at Thor. “We’re so screwed,” he says.

“It’ll be fine,” Thor assures his brother, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

~

Odin takes the day off; Frigga does too. They have what they later describe as a _stern conversation_ with the principal, and another over at the district offices with the district superintendent.

Things get a little better – there’s less pushing and jostling, and nothing in Loki’s locker, at least – before they get worse.

~

Girls discover they like boys. Some of the older boys have already discovered girls aren’t half bad either. It’s a small rural community, very traditional and conservative; if anyone dares to feel differently (or feels nothing at all), no one risks mentioning it.

Loki discovers girls make good enough friends, but he actually likes other boys. Shortly after that, he discovers the computers in the math lab… and porn, and how to hide things even better from their parents. Thor discovers he likes- Loki. Then again, he’s kind of always known it.

They don’t talk about it. Each of them remembers that kiss in the snow – thinks about it almost every day, even – but neither twin ever, ever mentions it. The more they think about it, the more dangerous talking seems.

~

Frigga has always been closer to Loki than their father has. It’s not that Loki and Odin don’t get along… they just don’t have much in common. Thor is a lot more like their father; he gets it. Odin worries about Loki, sure. but they’re so different that it’s too easy to chalk everything up to temperament.

It isn’t that simple. Thor knows better

“Is Loki eating enough,” their mother asks both Thor and Odin one night during supper, when Loki has asked to be excused to use the bathroom. “He’s so thin,” she worries, “and so secretive.”

Thor clears his throat. “You know Loki,” he says, because someone has to cover for his brother. “He likes to keep to himself is all.”

~

In the spring Thor plays football. Kids in their grade are too young to try out for Junior Varsity, and it’s not even the _football time of year_ , but there’s a club for the kids the coach is unofficially grooming. They don’t play other schools; they just divide into two squads and square off against one another. Thor is careful to ask Loki if it’s a problem, because there are wanna-be popular kids on both squads and some of them have a history of hurting his brother. Loki claims not to care, and even congratulates his brother warmly.

Thor doesn’t buy it, not for a moment.

~

Loki kisses another boy – an eight-grader from another school, during a track meet - under the bleachers and gets detention. “What were you _doing_ ,” Thor hisses as they sit in the principal’s office awaiting their mother. He’s angry far beyond what makes sense. It’s scary. “Why would you _do_ something like that?”

“Like what,” Loki shoots back, not nearly quietly enough. “I’m a fag,” he spits. “Everyone’s saying it.”

Not _everyone_ , apparently; Loki’s mouth gets him suspended.

~

“How is this fair,” Loki wails when they get home. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Since when can’t I say bad words to my brother? Were _you_ offended,” he challenges Thor, whipping around to get right in his brother’s face. “Tell me!”

Thor… wasn’t. Not _by_ Loki, anyway; he might very well have been offended _for_ his brother.

Frigga gently reminds Loki that life isn’t always fair. Not even close. “But you like what you like and we love you no matter what,” she promises him. “I’m sorry no one else understands. But you can always talk to me, if you need to.”

~

“Why would you kiss someone you barely know,” Thor asks his brother that night as they curl up – together; they’re still skipping the top bunk in favor of the bottom one, although they do lie up there and read often enough (at Loki’s request) that the sheets are convincingly rumpled – that night. “Why would you let a stranger put his hands on you?”

“I do what I want,” Loki reminds him. His brother says that more and more, and it leaves Thor feeling sad. Sad, and lonely. “It’s no business of yours anyway.”

That hurts, all the more so because it’s true. Thor swallows, hard, and hugs Loki close. “I just want you to be happy,” he tells his brother, because he knows that’s what people who love each other say. He’s not really positive what it’s all about, but he’s pretty sure he means it just the same.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer is the best part of living.

Summer stretches before them again (at long, long last), warm and sweet and golden.

This year, too, they're determined to make the most of it. They won't be children forever - already their bodies are starting to shift and change, sprouting hair in new and dangerous places and betraying them at the most awkward of moments - and they only have to think back to last year to acutely sense what they could be missing.

For the first time in nearly two years Loki is free. Free of the pressure and the cutting remarks and the ugly, subtle pranks that have replaced more straightforward physical bullying. Free of his sling and a shoulder full of screws and bolts… and of months spent sitting around unable to do anything.

Loki has two hands and a body that works again, not to mention the freedom to enjoy it. Outwardly there's very little left to remind him – any of them - of what had transpired a year earlier; nothing except a few fading scars and a collar bone that can reliably predict bad weather. If there's invisible damage, he's not telling.

~

At the first opportunity the twins race for the pond, Thor with an armload of worn, sun-bleached beach towels and Loki with a tractor tire inner tube slung across his torso like a giant, awkward bandolier. The two of them take turns swimming, sitting on the dock letting fish nibble their toes, and floating in the tube with eyes closed and limbs dangling.

The first week they are more than a little sunburned, Loki especially. By the second week Thor is honey-gold heading towards bronze and Loki has conceded the battle to nature and is slathering his pale skin with sunblock several times a day.

They both have tiny freckles scattered across the tops of their shoulders and traced like miniature galaxies along the bridges of their noses.

Loki's hair stays stubbornly black. He shines in the sun like a raven. Thor tries not to stare but can't help noticing the damp curls in Loki’s armpits are ever so slightly lighter; more of a rich mahogany, especially when he’s sprawled out on his back in the sun. The sparse trail of hair on his lower belly is browner still.

They haven't skinny-dipped in years, so Thor can't speak to how- you know.

His own hair is straw-colored on top and a little darker underneath. By mid-summer it will be sixteen different variations on _golden_. Loki tells him he has surfer hair, or maybe model hair. All over his body it's the same mix of blond and light brown and, at least from Thor’s perspective, it’s not nearly as interesting as is his brother's. Thor’s mop tangles easily. He wears it in a sloppy knot and considers it a nuisance.

When they get overheated they both dive-splash into the water – the pond is spring-fed and cooler than it seems like it should be - and then collapse in a soggy heap under the big maple tree. Instead of toweling off, they use their beach towels as pillows and let themselves drip dry. They lie head-to-foot, side-by-side, and look up at the rustling leaves. Loki points out different kinds of birds.

Once they're mostly dry the two of them take turns trailing their fingers up and down each other's calves – slow and feather-light, skipping along the tips of their new little hairs - and laughing drowsily as the goose-bumps rise.

~

Night finds them back in their bedroom, away from the worst of the mosquitos and biting flies.

After the first time they wake up practically glued together, bodies crusty and flaking in the aftermath of someone's (they each claim they must have slept right through it and insist they remember nothing, even after Loki makes Thor pinkie-swear) wet dream, the two of them fall back on their old routine: Every week they alternate, one brother clambering up to the top bunk and the other tumbling into the bottom one.

They do still curl up together to read at bedtime, though, only retreating to their separate perches when they're warm and limp and sleepy.

Every now and then they accidentally-on-purpose fall asleep before separating. They take turns at that too; first one twin and then the other somehow managing to doze off with his nose in a book while the second one invariably falls asleep not wanting to wake his brother. More often than not they wake up stiff and cramped. Secretly, they love it anyway.

The two of them take to occasionally switching bed assignments midweek, when the mood hits. There just may be a little burrowing and rolling about in one another's stinky nests. If there is, it’s the best-kept guilty pleasure ever. They never breathe a word of it.

They sleep in baggy knit shorts to try and spare the sheets. It works, usually. The two of them laugh and blush as they peel their messy sleepwear off in the morning, amused but a little horrified at how their bodies insist on betraying them.

~

Thor mows the lawn, bouncing along on the tractor. Frigga tells them both it's because Loki is a better baker. His bread _is_ to die for, but they all know it's really that she's afraid to lose him.

While Thor mows Loki hangs out all the wash, spending what feels like hours clipping the sheets and blankets and towels to the lines. People may call it women's work but over a few weeks all the overhead lifting gives Loki a man's lithe, muscled arms and shoulders.

Spending their days in the fresh air makes them hungry. Thor eats like a bear. Loki eats without being reminded, which makes everyone else secretly happy. They're finally starting to grow, too, and that leaves them starving all the more often.

~

As the summer wears on Thor starts to bulk up from wrestling the tractor and chopping wood. The muscles in his back ripple as he swings the axe or the maul. Every time he slacks off Odin or Frigga reminds him it's never too early to start laying in supplies for the coming colder seasons. Even when winter feels impossibly far away, it’s really right around the corner.

Neither twin wants to think about that.

~

Loki is lanky and coltish, all long legs and windblown hair.

They are both ridiculously clumsy. Their brains are simply unable to adjust quickly enough to keep pace with their growing bodies.

~

Frigga watches them fondly and tries not to worry over what might lie ahead.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life gets complicated, once you start getting a little older.

Odin is pleased _something_ \- anything - has gotten through to Loki. His barely-younger son is eating properly and smiling and growing into a handsome, intelligent young man. Loki has managed to stay close to Thor, which Odin takes as a good sign. It comes as a relief, really. One of his own deepest regrets, looking back on his adolescence, is that he didn't succeed in maintaining a good relationship with his own brother. _This way_ , he thinks, _is so much better_. Twins really do share a special bond.

Frigga knows her own perspective is different. She watches her boys growing up and it's like they share one body. They don't have the boundaries between them that many children have; they happily share everything. The two of them always have. It wouldn't surprise her if they share- _too much_ these days... or, at least, are heading in that direction.

As carefully and constantly as she monitors them, Frigga doesn't see any evidence that either twin - and, of course, it would probably be Thor if it was anyone - is forcing his affections on his brother. They just seem... stuck on each other like so much glue. In a good way, usually. Even so, she can't help but worry. The older her boys get, the more they don't change. She just can't shake the feeling it will turn out be a problem eventually.

She doesn't say anything to Odin. This could all be her imagination. Everything could be fine. That, and she can't argue with him; for the first time in ages, Loki does seem genuinely happy.

Frigga regularly helps Loki with the washing. It's impossible not to notice how he, in typical young adolescent style, hides the crusty shorts underneath everything and rushes them into the washing machine when he thinks no one is watching. At least her sons are both still sleeping in shorts. That much comes as a comfort.

~

Loki starts helping Thor split firewood. He doesn't like using the maul and splitter, but he quickly finds that swinging the big axe and sending chips flying everywhere is satisfying. The stretch and pull of it helps his shoulder, too. After a few weeks he has the same range of motion on both sides. It’s almost as if his fall had never happened.

He can tell from the expression on his brother's face - when Thor thinks Loki doesn't know anyone is looking - that the extra labor is doing nothing bad for his so-called _physique_ , either. He's not big like his brother, but Loki inspects himself in the mirror and isn't utterly displeased with what he sees anymore.

Still, it's hot, hot work. Loki starts wearing his hair up off his neck in a sloppy ponytail. Thor only studies him all the more closely.

Loki would be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

~

All too soon yet another summer – a better one, this time - is winding down. The days are hazy and hot and still; the nights are oppressive, the air thick with fireflies. This year, Loki carefully catches them in cupped hands and brings them back to Thor. Sometimes a lightning bug will settle in his palm and sit there flashing away for several minutes.

The fireflies know they're safe. Loki doesn't hurt things.

Seeing his brother's face smiling sweetly in the flashes of otherworldly yellowish light, Thor knows he has never loved Loki more.

~

The late August air is like syrup. It oozes into their lungs and trickles sticky-sweet along their skin. All day and evening, they can hear the constant dull hum of cicadas.

Thor and Loki wrestle on the dock and kiss for real for the first time: teeth and tongues sliding together, hot and slick, their hands pretty much everywhere. The whole experience is beautiful and horrible and terrifying.

Especially afterwards. They stand for a moment panting, unable to meet one another’s eyes. Loki wrenches free and dives into the water, cutting through the surface and disappearing like a thrown knife. Thor finds himself unexpectedly balled up on the dock, his body wracked with big, painful sobs. And then he’s back up to sit on his heels, watching. His brother is gone beneath the rippling, grey water for so long that Thor can’t help but fear the worst has happened.

He’s just about to dive when he sees the first ripples.

When Loki finally pops back up for air he can barely make it to shore. He staggers into the cattails and drops to his hands and knees, retching.

“Loki,” Thor screams. He trips over a root in his hurry to stand and nearly falls headfirst into the water. “Please.” He doesn’t even know what’s going on… only that he wants to fix it somehow.

They stumble back to the house, guilty and scared and not talking. 

~

Going back to school in the fall is like being ripped from the nest and thrown to the hard, cold ground below. After the happy peacefulness of their own little summery world neither Thor nor Loki is anywhere near ready to face the harshness that is reality.

Thor returns to school as outwardly powerful and magnetic as the best of the best. Girls swarm over him like flies on shit. It should be flattering, and maybe it is... a little. Mostly he can't help but notice how fake everyone is. It makes him miss summer even more, which shouldn’t even be possible.

Loki shows up for seventh grade a horse of a different color. He comes back strong and confident and good-looking in a just-coming-into-his-own way the kids at school aren’t even close to being prepared to appreciate. The teachers are another story; they love his ponytailed hair and his sharp expression and the way he moves like a dancer.

He breezes through the halls like he’s the only one in the building. Thor wants very much to be grateful, to be pleased for his brother, but as the first few weeks of classes wear on he can’t help but notice that Loki’s smile seems more and more forced. His brother’s meals have dwindled back to half what a growing teen should be eating. Lunch is a cookie and a soda; dinner is a battle full of protests about not wanting this and getting stomachaches from that.

On the days he doesn’t have enough homework to keep him busy, Loki slaves away in the yard from the time they get home until it’s too dark outside to see. He drags in after everyone else has finished eating, sweaty and dirty, and falls right into bed exhausted.

Thor misses what they had, even just a few months ago. This? This is scary.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes people aren't what they seem. Other times, they are.

Things calm back down and the rest of middle school rolls on by. Thor joins the JV football team, with Loki's blessing. He'd like it better if his brother could be more involved - could sit in the stands and cheer him on, like his teammates’ friends and siblings - but he understands why it can't be like that for the two of them. If nothing else, too many of Loki's enemies are part of the program.

Ultimately it boils down to this: Loki isn't big on forgiveness. It's fine. Thor doesn't think his brother should have to be.

Loki takes up the flute. He's drawn to its nearly pure sound, to the way it can (in the right hands) be beautifully haunting. The music he can make with it is lovely, like birdsong is lovely. It's no surprise to Thor, or to their parents, that he picks it up as quickly as he always has sketching and painting.

Their parents get the old piano tuned for the first time since the boys were born. Odin and Frigga, who both play well enough for family fun but are by no means masters, take turns accompanying him until his skills outstrip theirs so badly it's laughable.

Even then Loki plays with them sometimes, just for the fun of it.

There's an unexpected boon in all of this for Thor, who is about as musical as a cement block: without any cajoling at all, Loki joins the marching band. Thor gets easily half his unspoken wishes made true in one neat package. His brother _is_ in the stands and _can_ cheer up a storm for the team, and is able to keep playing the flute in a way that's not so unfortunately linked to gender. Best of all, maybe, when the team plays football away, Thor gets to bring his brother along without anyone raising an eyebrow. Best Christmas ever, and it's nowhere near the holidays.

Thor and Loki even spend time together in the school's weight room, as the band members are encouraged to build strong legs and - for the winds and brass, at least - stronger lungs.

The teasing dies down a little. It seems that way, at least. If not, they both notice it less.

Loki eats like a teenager once more, because he kind of has to.

~

By unspoken agreement the two of them don't kiss again, not beyond the occasional brotherly smooch on the cheek or peck on the forehead. Thor still thinks about that day often (and, by the appraising look he sometimes catches on Loki's face when they're getting ready for school or changing after a game, he's pretty sure his brother does too) but these days he knows it's _wrong_. He shouldn't try to take further action.

They're more companionable now and less sensual. It's not what either of them really wants but it's _for the best_. They don't have to look any farther than their own mother - who seems so relieved sometimes that Thor feels terribly guilty - for proof they’ve made the right choice.

~

They still love the lazy honeyed days of summer the most, even once sports and band mean they have to start riding their bikes into town for practice. When they do land themselves an increasingly rare free day and can spend it sprawled out on the dock, or when they're carefully catching the last fireflies of another year, it's perfect. They can still pretend it will always be this way; it’s almost as though they can stay boys forever.

Almost, but not quite, and they both know it.

~

Their parents are tall. They have good genes that way. By the start of freshman year they are finally towering over Sif again. She and Loki had made peace with one another long ago, after a rough little fight (in which he'd pulled out some of her hair and she'd broken his nose and they'd both found themselves good and grounded). These days they're happily friends again.

With that in mind Sif asks Loki if it would be too weird if she went out with Thor. On an actual date.

Loki knows how dates work, even though he's yet to have gone on one. There's eating or a movie and then kissing. In the porn he still watches when he gets a few minutes alone, there is usually quite a bit of groping and actual screwing after that, but Loki hopes and prays that's not what Sif is planning. _He's too young for this_ , he wants to tell her. _Oh, and he's mine, too_. All he says, though, is "go ahead... why would I care?"

Sif gives Loki a big hug. "Thank you," she says, and he nods.

Hugging her isn't all that bad - she's strong like he is - and Loki thinks maybe he could do this dating thing after all.

He's going to be bored, otherwise. If nothing else it's bound to cut down on the gossip.

~

Amora is pretty, there's no denying it. Her hair is so light it's nearly white, and her face is as sharply sculpted as his is. They make a striking couple; everyone (meaning Thor, and Sif, and the little circle of friends Loki and Thor still share) says so. She's smart, too, and with it funny and sarcastic. She's the first person Loki can remember meeting who feels like his intellectual equal.

Sure, she's kind of mean, but no one's perfect. He's just grateful she wants him.

~

Frigga doesn't like Amora. "I don't care for the way she treats people," their mother admits to her twin sons when pressed. "She's just as bad as the people who bullied you, Loki."

In private she tells Odin "that girl is up to no good. I don't trust her, and I don't think she's good for Loki."

Odin doesn't really disagree. Amora is a little too forward, even though she's only a year older than Loki. He, too, has noticed that Loki is sharper and more bitter around her. Odin kisses Frigga, fondly. "You're right," he agrees. "But I remember what it was like to be his age. The more we tell him no..."

"I know, I know." Frigga sighs. "I'm just worried. Loki isn't _like_ Thor." She means a lot of things, most of which the two of them dance carefully around.

"He's young," Odin reminds his wife. "He's just experimenting. We'll keep a close eye on him."

~

Sif isn't Amora's biggest fan either. Thor keeps quiet... he knows he's too biased to be objective. "I'm his friend," Sif complains. "You're his _twin brother_ , for chrissake! Why won't she let him hang out with us?"

Sif has a good point. Amora never wants to double date or even sit home together and watch a movie. It's like she doesn't want the two of them competing for Loki's time and affection. Except they aren't, Sif insists. Thor... yeah. He doesn't feel particularly comfortable offering up his own opinion.

Well, not until Amora announces that Loki needs to move into his own bedroom. "He needs space," she huffs, "and privacy."

Loki has never needed anything remotely like that before. "He seems to like it here well enough," Thor shoots back, crossing his arms and squaring his shoulders. What he really wants to know is why Loki's hovering by the door while Amora's doing all the talking.

"That's just _creepy_ ," she scoffs, glaring back at him.

For a brief moment an ugly surge of defensiveness kicks in and Thor wonders, panicked and a little angry, what Loki might have told her.

Loki looks just as shocked as Thor feels, though. It’s a lucky guess, then, or maybe Amora is the one that's creepy. Now Thor just wants to punch her.

He doesn't. They weren't raised to hit girls.

Not even the rotten ones who deserve it.

~

Not more than a month later - a month that finds Loki spending way too much time in his room and sneaking Frigga's makeup to cover his hickeys, while simultaneously (and incongruously) acting even sadder and more stressed than he has in years - Thor catches wind of an ugly rumor.

Amora, Thor overhears one of his teammates bragging when they're all out at the park passing around a bottle of something the starting running back stole from his parents' liquor cabinet, has a running bet with one of the cheerleaders. "She says she can turn that little homo straight," he announces, and several people snicker.

The guy turns out to be a little fuzzy on the details, especially when Thor comes barreling through like a tornado and knocks him flat on his back in the dirt.

It doesn't really matter, though. Thor has already gotten more than enough of the gist of it.

As he stomps off to grab his bike before he can do something really stupid, he hears one of the other players say "Watch, it, buddy. Thor’s Loki's brother."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frigga steps in.

Thor plans to talk to Loki right away. He does. By the time the opportunity might normally have presented itself, though – it’s not the sort of thing he wants to bring up over macaroni and cheese and a tossed salad, after all, not with both of their parents looking on – Amora is there. Yet again. She's at their house just about every day, for at least an hour or two.

Frigga has long since stopped bothering to invite her to stay for dinner. Early on, before Amora had completely worn out her welcome, she’d nearly always declined anyway. Not that anyone had been all that sorry.

After she’s gone- wherever she goes at night (back under her bridge, maybe - it's an image that appeals to Thor, anyway) and they’ve finished their meal, Loki still has to practice his flute and finish up any homework he didn’t manage to cram in during his classes. There's never any time for talking.

Thor sometimes feels like he really never sees his brother anymore. Sure, they’re both on the field during practice. They still wash up with the rest of the team afterwards, and with Thor around no one dares to snicker at Loki’s obvious _love bites_ or question his brother's sexuality. But Loki ducks out while Thor is still dressing to bike home with Amora... who never once sits in the bleachers but always manages to show up (snapping her gum and smelling like perfume and cigarettes) before Thor can quite finish getting ready.

It’s not that he’s slow, and it’s definitely not that he’s stalling. The football team comes off the field later than the band, and Frigga would not be pleased if he showed up at the house without first stopping to shower.

~

By the time Thor gets home, Loki is already holed up in his new room. With, of course, Amora. At mealtime he's evasive and harried. There’s no time at the end of the evening to read together, and there’s certainly not any curling up or relaxing.

Sif and Thor do spend time with one another too, of course… but it’s not every day and it’s not- he can’t really put a finger on what’s different about it. For starters, they normally spend their time in public, or at least with the rest of his (or her) family. That, and they only exclude Loki because he’s never available, not because they don’t want him around.

~

Thor doesn’t tell Sif about the rumor, because he feels like he needs to talk to Loki first.

Except that never actually happens.

Weeks drag by, and suddenly it’s been months. Amora is still around. Nothing seems to have changed between her and his brother, and Thor starts to wonder if what he’d been told wasn’t true. Juicy gossip spreads like poison ivy in this town, and it wouldn’t be the first time Thor’d heard one of the cheerleaders (or the players, for that matter) passing along things he _knew_ were lies.

He still doesn’t like Amora, and doesn’t like the way she’s feeding (if not causing) Loki’s ever-growing isolation, but he starts to feel more and more like the whole thing is none of his business and he should just keep his nose out of it.

~

It’s almost the end of the fall season; with the cold and the snow they get here, the team doesn't play through the winter. They do keep up their workouts and the coach gets them all together weekly, but it doesn't take up nearly as much of their afternoons. The band scales its practices back as well. Thor figures he’ll finally have more time available to spend with his brother.

Time Amora hopefully isn’t planning on monopolizing.

~

Winter gets an early start this year. It snows for real - more than a foot, and it's cold enough to be really icy - the weekend after Thanksgiving. Mrs. Wallace slips on the driveway outside her paddock and breaks her wrist. In the summer she might still be able to get by, at least with everything but the stall mucking, but in cold weather and slippery going there’s simply no way she can manage.

Frigga first offers the chance to help with her animals – to take care of the horses, feed the cats, and look after her cockatiels when she’s not feeling up to it – to Loki. She hopes spending time among gentle creatures with simple needs and clear motives will help him regain his balance. “I think he needs this more than you do,” she takes Thor aside to explain, because this is _Thor's thing_. “Plus, it’s going to be a lot of work. Maybe after a few days he’ll ask you to help him.”

~

Loki jumps at the opportunity. Frigga and Thor (and Odin too, for that matter, although it’s not the sort of thing he tends to share with the rest of them) breath a collective sigh of relief.

It’s a short-lived reprieve. Loki does indeed need assistance – with the horses indoors most of the time there is a lot more to do than there might be in the summer, and Mrs. Wallace is pretty much reduced to supervising – and it takes him only a couple of days to realize it.

Before Thor can even open his mouth to volunteer, Loki drops the bomb: “But that's okay, because Amora can come with me.”

“Her parents don’t mind,” Frigga asks.

Loki shrugs. “It’s just her mother. And Amora probably hasn’t told her.”

~

Two weeks later, Mrs. Wallace shows up unannounced at the house before Frigga can even finish taking her coat off. “I don’t mean to butt in where it's not welcome,” she tells Frigga, “but I don’t want that blond girl coming around anymore. I didn’t figure it would do much good telling that to Loki; he’s just a boy, and she has him dancing like a puppet on a string.”

Frigga frowns. “Has there been a problem? Loki didn’t mention-.”

Mrs. Wallace doesn’t give Frigga a chance to finish. “She’s not really doing the work – she’s making him do it all, and twisting things around so he probably thinks he’s imagining it – but I could let that part go if- if it was only that.” She shakes her head sadly. “But it’s not. She’s stealing my things. Lied to me too, right to my face, but I’m not a lovesick little boy. I'm not falling for it.”

~

Frigga is waiting in the kitchen when Loki and Amora show up from school. She has her coat on and her purse and keys ready. “Loki, go on over and get started,” she tells her son, not bothering with the usual pleasantries. “Amora, come with me. I’ll take you home.”

Amora’s eyes narrow. “I don’t need a ride,” she says. “I’ll just walk home after-.”

“I’m sorry,” Frigga cuts in. “I wasn’t offering and I wasn't asking. Of course, I can call your mother to come get you here if that suits you better.”

"Mom," Loki says carefully, "what's going on?"

"I'll come help you with the animals after Amora's mother and I have had a little talk," she tells him. "We'll chat about it then. Now get going. Mrs. Wallace is expecting you."

"You have no right-," Amora starts, drawing herself up and putting her hands on her narrow hips.

"Actually," Frigga says a little icily, "you might have a point there. Why don't I have Mrs. Wallace stop over, and we'll call the police?"

All the color, which isn't much to start with, drains out of Loki's face.

Amora blinks. Her composure slips for - unlike Loki’s - barely an instant. "That won't be necessary," she tells Frigga, her mask firmly back in place. "I'll go with you."

"Wise choice," Frigga agrees. Like there was ever any question.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amora has a secret.

Frigga learns several interesting things during her relatively brief visit with Amora, not the least of which is this: the girl lies seamlessly. Teens are teens, she knows. Without a doubt there are plenty of times her own children – Loki especially, as he’s always had a gift for words and a lot to hide - fail to be perfectly honest, but Amora puts both of them to shame. Frigga can’t shake the feeling that – if she isn’t careful – she herself might accidentally drop her guard and fall for something. It's easy to see how Loki might have gotten his smart little self caught up in the girl's web.

There's nothing Amora's selling that Frigga's buying, though. Not for an instant.

"I'd rather discuss this with both you and your- it's your mother, right," Frigga asks the girl as the car bumps off the road and up into the makeshift parking lot. The battered house looks to be divided into four apartments, judging from all the meters. There are several cars parked behind the building, at least one of which doesn't appear to be in running condition. "Shall we go up?"

"Mom doesn't like me bringing people by unannounced," Amora says almost apologetically. It’s the first reasonable, halfway-pleasant thing she’s said since she got in the car.

Nothing about it feels honest to Frigga. Her heart breaks for Loki.

"Of course," Frigga concedes, pulling out her phone. It's not like she wasn't expecting this. "What's the number? Or do you want to call her from your own phone?"

~

Amora's mom, it seems, isn't actually her mom. Her real mother is in jail; the woman she lives with is her paternal grandmother. Who, from what Frigga quickly learns, doesn't know the half of what Amora's been up to.

For example, she doesn't know her granddaughter has a boyfriend. Or that Amora – who’s been claiming she’s headed to work every day after school - _doesn't_ really have a job... or that the nice things she's _been saving up for_ have actually been lifted from Mrs. Wallace, among other people.

As they look through the things in question - while Amora stands by the sink, expressionless - Frigga is able to quickly pick out one of her better sets of napkin rings. She’s 100% certain it’s hers. Every ring bears her engraved initials.

"I didn't take anything," Amora says with unnerving smoothness. "Loki gave it to me."

"Well, then," Frigga fires back, "you won’t mind giving it back, will you? I'd hate to have to get the authorities involved over a simple misunderstanding."

Amora's grandmother helpfully reminds Amora her parole officer would feel exactly the same way.

~

Mrs. Wallace couldn’t be more excited to be reunited with her bracelet and her brother’s gold watch. She’s almost as excited to see Frigga.

"Do you think there’s any chance my boy was involved in this," Frigga asks her before heading back outside to join Loki in the barn. "I’m sorry to put you on the spot, but I need to make sure I deal with the whole mess appropriately."

"You know, I've been asking myself exactly that," Mrs. Wallace tells her. "But Loki loves my critters, and he's only been in the house with me to help feed Bert and Ernie." She taps the cage lightly; both women smile fondly as the birds chitter. "He’s never been in here alone. I know boys his age can be trouble but... no. Your Loki is the innocent victim here."

~

"A word, if I may." Frigga interrupts Loki as he darts past the doorway with a big scoop of oats. She settles onto a bale of hay and pats the empty space next to her. “Come sit with your old mother.”

Loki sidles over and does as she’s asked of him, oats and all. He’s warm and sweaty. Frigga desperately wants to hug him. “I’m sorry to have to ask you this, sweetie,” she starts. She is. This isn’t the sort of thing she wants for either of her boys. Far from it. "Did you know Amora" - she carefully doesn't call the girl _your girlfriend_ ; she isn’t blaming Loki, not without proof - "has been stealing? From Mrs. Wallace, I mean, and from our house too."

She’s prepared for him to jump to the defensive, or to laugh it off. What she’s not expecting, though, is for him to slump against her with a big, juddering sigh and then break down and start sobbing. The scoop tips. The oats trickle slowly onto the floor. “Loki? What is it?”

“I k-knew there had to b-be something going on,” he says, wetly. “She- there’s no way she would r-really like me.”

Frigga does hook an arm around his shoulders then. She pulls him close, like he’s still her little man. Her magic is long since gone, though. He’s growing up. She can’t kiss it all away.

Not anymore.

~

Thor tries to help out and just ends up making things worse. “She wasn’t worth your time,” he insists, forgetting that in his brother’s head it’s probably still _isn’t_. “She was playing a game anyway.”

Loki stiffens. He doesn’t look at Thor. “What do you mean,” he asks, followed quickly by “who told you that,” and “when did you find out,” and “what else are you hiding?”

No answer is good enough. They don’t even fight, really; Loki takes a couple of swings, but Thor catches his wrists and holds firm until his brother wrenches free and runs from the room screaming.

~

Amora doesn’t come around anymore, but it’s not at all like Thor’d hoped and expected. About two weeks after Frigga’d intervened Loki moves out of the bedroom Amora had chosen for him. Rather than coming back to _their room_ , though, he instead chooses the tiny bedroom all the way at the far end of the upstairs. He half-pushes, half-drags his mattress down the long hallway, grunting and cursing, and then spends the rest of the evening marching back and forth lugging armloads of clothing and boxes of books. 

It’s after midnight when the noise stops. If Thor really, really strains, he thinks he can hear Loki’s flute. It could just be the wind, he supposes, or the house creaking. He pretends it’s Loki just the same.

~

Sif asks what happened, after Loki reappears in the den for _movie night_ wearing ratty, worn pajamas and nursing a big bowl of popcorn. “She moved on,” Loki says flatly. “I wasn’t man enough for her.”

“She hasn’t been at school in over a week,” Sif says instead. “People are saying she got arrested.”

“Don’t bug him,” Thor tells her, coming to Loki’s defense even though he’s not sure it’s welcome. “He’s having a crappy month.”

“More like a crappy year,” Loki says under his breath. “Or a crappy lifetime.”

“Nobody’s worth that,” Sif reminds them both. “Seriously.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Loki scoffs. “You’ve got Thor.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki can't get past what's happened.

As spring makes it way back into the air, the birds come back for the summer and the snowbells blossom and things seem like they should get better. With Loki around again (Amora hasn't been back to school since the day Frigga took her home, which has led to all sorts of juicy gossip on just about everyone else’s part and some real guilt on Loki's, and Mrs. Wallace has been set free of her cast and really only needs help once or twice a week with the heaviest mucking) Sif and Thor increasingly find themselves sliding back towards _friendship_. In the end the two of them concede both the battle and the war: they like each other well enough... but things just don’t seem to have gotten off the ground between them the way either of them had expected.

In early April Sif tells Thor _real relationships_ , the grown-up kind, are something she'd kind of felt rushed into anyway. At which point Thor discovers she’s not alone; he himself is a lot more fine with the idea than he thinks he probably should be. He doesn't feel dumped; he feels relieved. And Sif is still around a lot anyways. The two of them still watch movies and devour ice cream and share secrets.

And worry over Loki.

“Breaking up” isn’t much of a loss when you look at it that way.

~

There's a rumor going around school, among the banged-up desks and the stale reek of locker room sweat, that Loki got Amora pregnant. That's she's had to leave school to have the baby, and that Loki went back on his promises - shirked his responsibilities - and left her to go to some dingy home for unwed mothers.

At first Thor believes none of it. The stories people are telling don’t sound anything like his brother. Eventually, though, he hears so much of it going around that jealousy gets the better of him… which starts to- to crack the door open and lets _doubt_ to creep inside.

He corners Loki out by the new garden shed, the one that's safe and sturdy and not much taller than they are, and demands to know the truth.

"I _swear_ ," Loki wails when Thor pins him up against the shed wall and gets right in his face, "I never stuck anything in her but my fingers! And that was only once." His lower lip starts to wobble and his eyes well up, with rage or fear or both. Thor can't tell. "I hated it. It was gross, and she said I sucked at it.” He abruptly shoves at Thor, hard, and ducks away. "I can't believe you - _you_ \- would think that about me."

"I'm not even sure I do. Or did,” Thor muses, thinking aloud. “Loki!"

It's too late. As soon as he's just out of Thor's reach, Loki takes off at a full sprint. Thor is off-balance and off-guard. He's only a few steps behind by the time Loki makes it to the main stairs and flies up them.

Still, his brother has just time enough to slam and lock the bedroom door, and no amount of pleading (or banging) accomplishes anything.

~

When Frigga and Odin get home from the supermarket, Thor stops down to help with the bags and bags full of groceries. Feeding two growing boys is no small undertaking. "Where's your brother," Odin asks Thor as they make their third trip in from the car. They’re huffing and puffing, all three of them. “We could use a hand.”

Thor feels bad for Loki, now that he’s calmed down some. Looking back on their ugly conversation, he feels more and more like he was a jerk. On top of that he’s not even sure why he acted the way he did. Something about the idea of Loki- of his brother having sex with- with anyone, he just can’t stomach.

Loki shouldn’t be ready for things like that. Especially not with people who’re only treating him badly.

Which is probably a lot closer to what Thor should have tried saying to his brother.

“I think he’s upstairs,” he tells his father. “Studying.”

Odin gives Thor a long, calculating look that makes his stomach lurch.

Just then Frigga comes by with a huge double-armful of paper products. Never has Thor been so grateful to see toilet paper. “Here, here, let me get that,” he offers, rushing after her. _Saved_.

~

When Loki appears at the dinner table, his eyes are red-rimmed and a little puffy and his mouth is set in a thin, grim line.

Frigga tries to get him talking, but all he’ll tell her is that he isn’t feeling well. “Maybe I’m allergic to _something in the yard_ ,” he says, pointedly, glaring sideways at Thor where their mother can’t see. “I felt fine when I got home, but then I went outside and it just _knocked me right over_.”

Thor gives Loki a nudge that’s almost a kick under the table. He’ll apologize, he will, but by pushing for it here his brother is just going to get them _both_ in trouble. When Loki opens his sharp little mouth to keep going, Thor feigns a coughing fit. “Sorry, sorry,” he wheezes, as Frigga pats his arm and studies him carefully. Her face is full of concern. “Just some soda down the wrong way.”

At that, Loki chokes on his own water and starts hacking up a lung for real.

If it wasn’t so sad, it would be funny.

~

“I might not do marching band next year,” Loki announces out of nowhere a few days later. “I’m kind of tired of being tied to the team, you know?”

“Are you sure, honey,” Frigga asks him. Thor stands behind her with his mouth hanging open. “You play so beautifully.”

Loki shrugs. “I won’t stop playing. I’m just tired of football.”

~

“Teenagers fight. It’s in their nature.” Odin smiles at his wife. “Don’t you remember what you were like at their age?”

Frigga sighs. “Yes, I do. But they’ve never been like this. They’ve always been so close. I- I just don’t like it.”

Odin doesn’t like it either, actually. It’s easy enough to blame Amora, but he’s not sure she’s the cause. She could just be a symptom. “Divide and conquer,” he suggests. “I’ll talk to Thor. You talk to Loki?”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone tries to help. It's not very helpful.

Frigga and Odin regroup the following morning over coffee, while the twins are still sleeping. They’re both worried, Odin because it troubles him to hear one of his sons resorted to- well, it’s awfully close to violence, even if that wasn’t at all how it was intended, and Frigga because Loki seems more withdrawn and shuttered away than she’s ever seen him before. That’s really saying something. “I don’t like where any of this is headed,” she tells her husband, shaking her head sadly.

Odin nods. “They’re boys,” he says. “They’re bound to play a little rough with one another. But Thor has always been so protective of Loki. And he knows it, too,” he adds, rubbing his temples in tight little circles with two fingers of each hand. “He’s really upset that he overpowered his brother.”

“I think Loki’s snowed us,” Frigga tells him. “At least a little. I don’t think he’s okay, and it doesn’t feel like a new problem.”

“On top of which, he seems to be a magnet for bad treatment,” Odin adds, unhappily.

Much as she might not want to, Frigga has to agree. Loki has never really opened up completely about the Amora situation – not yet, anyway - but the things he _has_ shared make their relationship sound nothing short of emotionally abusive. The girl had cut him off from his friends and family, belittled things of importance to him, used him as a means to an end, and… whatever you might term it, Frigga doesn’t think it was (definitely _was_ ; she’s not going to be allowing any _is_ , not anymore) healthy. Not for Loki; probably not for Amora, either.

If she makes herself sit back and think about the whole thing objectively, Frigga has to admit that she does feel sorry for the girl, too. The life Amora’s living – the lies, the lack of personal connections, the singularly bad home situation – can’t be anything close to pleasant. But Frigga’s first responsibility, her first loyalty, is to her sons. “I’m just not sure what to do,” she worries between sips of hot coffee. “Do you think we should tell him?”

Odin frowns. “The wrong timing and we’ll just make everything worse,” he says. It’s the same thing he’s been saying since the boys were five or six, when they were barely even old enough for it to have meaning. “We could lose him completely.”

Frigga can’t deny that. She doesn’t even bother trying.

~

They have a family meeting the next night, complete with hors d’oeuvres and sweet-sour, crisp apple cider from the place next door to Mrs. Wallace’s. Frigga’s hope is that a little party food will make this seem more like a pleasant, informal gathering and less like an inquisition. From the looks on Thor’s and Loki’s faces, she’s not sure it’s even coming close to working.

The boys shift and wriggle, uncomfortable under the weight of so much parental scrutiny. They do draw unconsciously together, rather than creeping apart, but that’s the only bit that seems even marginally hopeful.

Loki looks at Thor for a long moment and then clears his throat. “People at school are saying I got Amora pregnant,” he says, looking at the floor. Frigga watches as Thor carefully takes his hand. “But I didn’t. I didn’t have sex with her, I promise. I didn’t even want to. I just wanted people to think I was normal, but now everything is- it’s- it sucks more than ever.” His voice is thick and wet. Frigga’s heart sinks.

“And I- I wasn’t sure I believed him,” Thor admits. “I don’t know why. Because I _do_ trust that he wouldn’t do something that- that- he just wouldn’t. I know my brother.”

“Sweetheart,” Frigga tells Loki, “it’s not easy to be yourself, not at all. But I the end it’s worth it.”

“Right.” Loki snorts. “Like you would know.”

She looks at Odin, who shakes his head in a tiny _no_. “It’s not a competition,” she reminds Loki. “And Thor? Violence doesn’t solve anything.”

~

For the first time since he’d moved down the hall Loki stops off in what used to be _their_ bedroom on his way to bed. “I’m sorry,” he says. He stands stiffly just inside the door, like he’s not sure if he should stay or flee.

Thor sits up in bed, covers sliding down to gather in a rumpled heap around his hips, and swings his feet over the edge. He sleeps in the bottom bunk by force of habit; that, and climbing up to the _top shelf_ only reminds him his brother isn’t there. “Come sit down.” He pats the warm spot where he’s just been lying. “I have a new National Geographic,” he adds, hunching over to pick the magazine up off the floor. “It’s got penguins.”

His little announcement has exactly the effect he’d been hoping for. Loki brightens, and then pads over to perch carefully on the edge of the bed.

After some quiet crying and fierce hugging, and one hard kiss on Loki’s forehead that probably isn’t quite brotherly enough, the two of them curl together under the covers. Loki turns the pages; Thor looks at pictures of penguins over his brother’s slender shoulder. “Wouldn’t it be cool to go there someday,” he asks. “When we’re grown up.”

“Anywhere but here,” Loki tells him, with some heat. “Anywhere.”

~

Both boys are decent students. Better than decent, really – Thor is the only football player on the honor role and Loki could easily have straight A’s if he applied himself. As it is you can tell exactly which subjects he enjoys and which he thinks are a waste of time. Even so his worst grades are perfectly acceptable.

The two of them are _college material_. It’s their ticket off the farm-that-isn’t-a-farm, if they want it.

More and more, they do.

~

The school psychologist asks to meet with Loki. A routine assessment, his teachers tell him. Everyone has to do it.

Except Loki knows that’s a lie. This is the first his brother, his _twin_ brother, who’s in the same year and at least as nutty, has heard a single thing about it.

The school’s intentions are probably well-meaning enough, but everything about the execution is ridiculous. The psychologist gives Loki a tri-fold brochure and explains that the administration wants to make sure he has access to a strong, effective support system.

The brochure is for gay teens thinking about coming out.

“Why exactly would you think I would need this,” Loki asks the psychologist.

“Homosexuality is nothing to be ashamed of,” the man tells him, smiling.

“I was just dating a _girl_ ,” Loki points out.

“The back cover has resources for bisexual young adults, too,” the psychologist says, his smile never slipping. “If you need anything, I want you to know I’m here to help you.”

“Awesome,” Loki says. And then he gets up abruptly, and leaves.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things still aren't quite back to normal...

Frigga comes home from work to find Thor sprawled in front of the television, Loki – from what she can see through the kitchen window, which could really use a good cleaning – out in the backyard picking up the mess of sticks and branches last week’s storm brought down, and Odin holed up in his home office working on a presentation. Sitting jauntily on top of the mail that’s strewn all across the kitchen counter, because a houseful of men (bright, capable men who invariably get their own work done unassisted) never seems to be able to grasp the basic concepts of opening, filing, and _throwing away_ , is a glossy brochure with _I Think I’m Gay_ in large blue letters on its cover. She skims it and then carries it with her into the den.

Thor laughs when she holds it up. “I think that’s dad’s,” he says. “I guess he has something to tell us.”

“Cute,” Frigga tells him, cocking an eyebrow, “but somehow I doubt it. Is this yours?”

“Nope,” he tells her, taking the brochure and flipping it over. “Look, resources for bisexuals. I think this is my aisle. Seriously,” he says when she looks exasperated, “it’s not mine. I’ve never seen it before. Maybe it’s Loki’s?”

“Why would he-?”

At the end of a block of commercials the show he’s watching starts up again. Thor rolls his eyes and groans. “Moooom. How would I know? Go ask him.”

~

Frigga watches her only-barely-youngest out the window for a few minutes before heading outside. Loki is snatching sticks up off the ground and snapping them over one thigh with sharp, angry movements. He flings the broken ends into a large garbage can, picks up a new armload, and starts again. Over and over, like a pissed-off little machine.

She hates it… hates seeing him so tortured.

~

“Hey, kiddo,” she calls out from the back steps. When he looks up, she waves. She’s opted to leave the brochure inside. “Everything okay?”

Loki throws a handful of shattered sticks into the bin. “I’ve had better days,” he admits. “The school shrink thinks my whole problem is that I’m not _out_. I’m not sure how much more _out_ I could _be_. Jesus. Sorry,” he adds.

Her boys are polite kids, for the most part; she never has to yell at them for swearing. She’s sure they’re a lot less restrained in private, but that’s their business. “She told you that,” she asks. “Seriously?”

“He,” Loki corrects. “Not in so many words, no. But did you see that stupid pamphlet?” He hisses, all frustrated tension. “I should wear a big sign, don’t you think? A sandwich board. Because, you know, there might be one poor sheltered kid in school who hasn’t figured me out yet.”

“Come here and hug your mother,” Frigga tells him. Her sons are almost adults now; they no longer think to bring their _boo-boos_ to their mother unprompted. She holds Loki tight. “You’re a smart, strong, gifted person and we love you just the way you are,” she reminds him as he slumps against her. He smells like earth and wet leaves. She would hold him forever, if that would only keep him safe.

Loki heaves a shuddering breath against her shoulder. “I don’t get what happened with Amora,” he admits. “I just don’t get it.”

“Neither do I,” she tells him. Whatever he means, there’s simply no right answer… nothing that can make any part of what’s happened better. “Neither do I.”

~

They don’t talk much about Amora after that, really. Frigga hears through the grapevine that the girl has transferred to a new school over an hour away – something about Amora’s mother’s having gotten out of jail, and an abusive stepfather, and an order of protection – but she isn’t going to be the first one to bring it up. It’s better for everyone, everyone in her own little family at least, if the past stays where it belongs.

~

Thor tries his best to be there for his brother. He makes up his mind that, if Loki does quit band in the fall, he will stop playing football as well. When he tells his teammates, though, they all think it’s stupid. “You’re not married,” they scoff. “He’s just your brother. Do you what you want. You know he would.”

They’re probably right – Loki does what Loki does, after all - but that doesn’t make it go down any easier.

~

“What do you think I should do,” Thor asks his father a few weeks later. “I don’t want to keep playing if it’s going to upset him.”

Odin doodles – circles and swirls, and careful cross-hatching - on his notepad as the two of them talk. This is all very delicate, and he doesn’t want to get it wrong. “I think you should do what feels right,” he tells his son. “But I also think you should _cross that bridge when you come it_ , as the saying goes. By the time fall rolls around,” he adds as Thor makes a face at him, “your brother could have changed his mind. You both might.”

~

“Hey,” Thor says as Loki pushes past him with a container of mint chocolate chip ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. “I’m sorry.”

Loki stops. His forehead wrinkles. “For what?”

“I- I-.” Thor can’t seem to get it out. “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about Amora. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry- I’m sorry I’m a _bad brother_. I just thought I should say it,” he says when Loki gapes at him. “I love you. I want you to be happy. I’d be lying if I said I was sorry she’s gone… but I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted _her_ to hurt you. I- oh, never mind,” he says. “I don’t even know what I’m trying to say anymore.” He cringes, waiting for Loki to laugh at his sentimental idiocy.

His brother doesn’t even crack a smile, though.

If anything, Loki looks like he might cry. “I never meant to hurt you either,” he says instead, turning to leave. Again. “But apparently I suck at living.”

“You do not,” Thor calls after him, but Loki is already out the door and racing down the stairs so fast it nearly counts as flying.

~

Thor finds more pictures of penguins. And gazelles. Tigers, even. Exotic animals in exotic settings. Things that remind him of his brother.

The two of them curl up together in his bed every Friday night, flipping through what he’s dug up that week and planning imaginary getaways to fantastic locations. “Barcelona,” Loki suggests. “The Galapagos,” Thor shoots back, because he wants nothing around them but nature.

Loki rolls his eyes. “Right. Start saving your pennies, then, because _that’s_ realistic.”

Thor doesn’t care. He knows – if they want it badly enough – the two of them can find a way to make it happen.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Odin comes home with a nice surprise, and Frigga slips up.

Something surprisingly close to Loki's wish comes true, and it does so a whole lot sooner than either he or Thor would have ever expected. It’s not penguins, but it’s a close second place. A very, very close one.

Their father comes home from a short business trip – a visit to his company's home office, which Odin calls the mothership; the boys can never quite tease out whether he's complaining or joking - full of whispered secrets, and not quite two full days later their parents call a family meeting.

The boys exchange excited looks.

Odin's company, their mother and father take enthusiastic turns explaining, is trying to expand its presence in the European market. To that end, the organization will be sending a team of five or six marketing, sales, and technical professionals (one of them Odin) to a large agricultural symposium overseas. Since he’s going to be traveling such a long way (not to mention that a portion of the trip will be paid for out of someone else's pocket), their parents clarify, it's a great opportunity to take a family vacation.

If the boys are interested, that is, Frigga assures both her boys. No one’s going to force them.

Vacation. In Europe.

The twins are given two days to think about it and come up with a decision.

Yeah. Vacation; Europe. Because there’s so much thinking required. Not to mention all the arm-twisting.

Right.

~

Their mother walks them through the finer details while Odin retreats to his office. The trip itself is more than a month away but he and his teammates have a lot of work to do in terms of getting ready.

While their father does his work thing, Frigga tells Thor and Loki, the three of them will see some of the sights in Italy. She's thinking Rome, probably, and then perhaps Pompeii; they can take in the centuries upon centuries of history and see all the places they'll be studying in school firsthand. Once Odin is free to join them, the plan is to hit coastal southern France. Maybe they'll even get to Barcelona, depending on a whole lot of complicated grown-up-esque factors beyond the boys' control. And comprehension.

That's okay; they're not really listening anymore anyway. They want nothing more than to retreat to one of their private hideaways and ooh and ahh over the awesomeness that's just rained down upon them.

"Promise me you'll think it over and let me know by the end of the week," their mother reminds each of them solemnly. A trip like this is a big deal. She doesn't want to force her boys, not if they don't feel ready.

~

The twins have lived out their lives here, never really traveling any father than their father's car would take them. They've never even seen the ocean. Neither of them remembers flying, although they've been told they traveled by airplane once as tiny babies. There are no pictures from that trip, and they know from hearing their parents talk that it took place long before they were old enough to remember.

They've barely left the state, let alone the country.

Consequently the whole family needs US passports, which Odin's company will help expedite. There seems to be an awful lot of paperwork.

~

Thor overhears Frigga on the phone, navigating the exact sort of bureaucratic minefield that makes both her sons at least momentarily glad they haven't yet arrived at adulthood. "Laufeyson," she's explaining. "L-a-u-f. Nothing? Do me a favor and check again under Farbautison, then. Right. F-a-r-b. No, _B_. As in _boy_." When she spots Thor hovering just outside the kitchen doorway, she plasters on a fake smile and hurriedly stacks her papers. "Perfect," she tells the phone, rolling her eyes for her son’s benefit. "I'll pick it up Friday."

She wipes her forehead. "What a hassle," she says, and then nicely asks Thor what he needs.

After a lifetime with Loki he knows a change of subject when he sees one. "What was that about," he presses.

She takes a deep breath. "Just working on getting a copy of your brother's birth certificate," she tells him. "We need it for his passport."

He frowns. "What about mine, then? And who are Laufey and Farbauti?"

"I have yours," Frigga says, pushing it across the counter towards him. “Right here.” The certificate is surprisingly unassuming for something so important; nothing more than a plain-looking sheet of thick yellow paper with a raised seal. His parents are listed by their full names. His place of birth is nearby, the same hospital that treated Loki after-.

"So what happened to his, then," Thor asks his mother. He doesn't want to think about Loki's accident. Even after all this time he still has nightmares; horrible dreams where his brother falls forever, or where Loki crashes to the ground in a mangled mess of flesh and blood.

"Would you believe it," she exclaims, and Thor shakes his head a little to snap himself back to the present. "I misplaced his! We don’t have it anywhere."

Thor’s pretty sure he _doesn’t_ believe it, actually. Frigga is normally almost compulsively organized. And when it comes to her sons she never loses anything, right down to the little locks of hair and the baby teeth and the worn remains of their very first slippers. Last but not least, she’s completely dodged his Laufey question. Thor nods anyway, because it’s what’s expected of him. Plus, the whole conversation is making him uncomfortable. "Um, okay," he tells her, “sure.”

She smiles again. This time she looks a little bit more like she means it. “So,” she says brightly, “have the two of you talked about Europe?”

Thor smiles back. “Maybe.”

~

In actuality Thor and Loki have talked about little else. They’ve spent every last bit of their downtime lying out on the dock, fantasizing about all the places they’re going to go and the things they’re going to see.

Loki has dug up a book on Pompeii somewhere; he spends an entire afternoon regaling Thor with stories of boundless sin.

Rather than admitting as much the two of them tell their mother they’re excited about seeing the Vatican. She laughs. “Oh, I’ll bet you are,” she teases and sends them both away blushing. 

~

“Does the name _Laufeyson_ mean anything to you,” Thor asks his brother the following afternoon, between weeding the garden and mowing the lawn.

Loki wipes a smudge of dirt off his own forehead. He purses his lips and stares up at the sky, humming quietly. “No,” he confesses, finally. “I don’t think so. Why?”

Thor shrugs. “No reason,” he says. He ducks down to grab Loki by one ankle and starts tickling the sole of his brother’s foot, dodging and laughing as Loki kicks and squeals. “Never mind. Let’s go swimming.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooops! It's amazing the trouble a little bad weather can cause.

Their parents are out for the evening.

Most of the night, that is, after two solid hours of primping and dressing up beforehand. It's a big event, the annual fundraiser for the local food bank. Supporting the place means a lot to both Frigga and Odin - while they have always considered themselves fortunate, relatively speaking, many of their family friends have had far too much personal experience with scarcity - and they don't anticipate being home until well after midnight. They always encourage _giving back_ , and this ball (with its good cash bar and silent auction) is invariably one of their favorite chances to do so.

They smile and laugh as they get ready, Odin in a sharp-looking tuxedo and Frigga in a beautiful grey-blue silk dress that takes at least a decade off her age. Their excitement is infectious, and a little frightening.

~

The boys have come a long way since the time of the _barn incident_. Hard to believe as it may be, Loki fell years ago now. The two of them are long since well on their way to adulthood, and their parents think nothing - or, at least, act as though they feel that way - of leaving them at home unattended. Especially when it’s just for a warm summer’s night.

Thor and Loki know how to stay out of trouble these days.

And when they do get themselves into mischief, they cover their tracks much more effectively than they ever have before.

Tonight they haven't even had to think about hiding any evidence, not so far. They've made a tasty if boring dinner of tuna casserole, courtesy of _mom's guilt_ , and curled up at opposites ends of the worn leather sofa in the den to watch TV. There isn't much on, but both of them are half-dozing anyway. They don't even notice the storm rolling in.

~

At the first good crack of lightning, the wind picks up sharply and the power goes out. They shake themselves awake and dig noisily in the end table drawer for flashlights. "Shit," Loki breathes as they look out the front windows; it's raining sideways. There will be a lot more branches to pick up tomorrow.

He and Thor tear through the house, upstairs and down, shutting and locking window after window. By the time they finish the house is secure but they're both dripping sweat. Without the windows open, it’s stifling. There's just no airflow. The whole place quickly becomes unbearably oppressive.

The two of them make their way out to the side porch, flashlights left behind. This porch has a wide, wide overhang; it’s the perfect place to watch the storm roll through without getting hopelessly soggy. They race one another for the best chaise, the heavy, wheeled one with the thick, weatherproof cushions.

Thor wins, but just barely; he's still hanging half off the seat when Loki crash-lands violently into his lap and knocks the wind completely out of him.

They flail and wrestle, until Thor gives up winning cleanly and simply manhandles Loki into submission until his brother is leaning back against his chest. It's a reasonably comfortable way to sit, especially with the windblown spray buffeting them. Loki stops struggling and settles in. They watch as the sky lights up over and over with jagged streaks of white and blue and orange.

There's no point in even trying to talk, not with the wind and the rain.

Not with the rumbling thunder.

It turns out to be pretty much like curling up and reading.

Except for how it isn't.

~

They both jump when lightning strikes a tree just out at the near edge of the woodlot. The _flashboom_ leaves them temporarily deafened and blinded; Thor doesn't even hear Loki's cheer, although he can't possibly miss the way his brother's arms fly up in the air.

Neither of them misses the way his warm, sticky hand - dislodged by Loki's sudden leap - lands right on the equally hot and sweaty skin of his brother's slender belly.

They stop moving and lie perfectly still. The wind quiets for a moment, until all either of them can hear is the sound of rapid, uneven breathing.

Just when he thinks everything will actually be okay, Thor's body betrays him.

Neither one of them says anything. They don’t really have to, considering they're both in nothing but loose knit shorts against the heat. There's no way Loki can possibly _not_ notice Thor's dick pressing against his spine. Still, he doesn't pull away. He doesn't laugh, or run (or hurl; Thor has never dared to ask if it was their kiss or the dangerously-long submersion that-). _Anyway_.

Thor has never asked because - whatever the answer - he doesn't think he wants to know.

At the next startlingly close lightening strike, Loki shifts again. This time it’s less of a jump and more of a shimmy. The edge of Thor's pinky finger drags across his brother's shorts and catches on- on proof Thor’s not the only one with a guilty secret and a bit of a problem.

They could pretend it's nothing. An accident. Or they could completely overlook it. Could and can and do.

Right up until Loki moans.

A powerful gust of wind whips a veritable sheet of rain up into their faces. It’s like water thrown from a bucket. Loki ducks and whips around, turning away from the choking rush; Thor catches the side of his face with one hand and pulls him in. Their lips brush together.

For a solid second neither one of them moves at all.

The wind howls again and Loki laughs, sending his own little gust of wet heat against Thor’s mouth. Thor stretches closer, close enough to teeter right at the edge.

Loki plunges in.

It’s not very much like kissing Sif, or even kissing Amora. The two of them aren’t at the best of angles. Still, just like always, they’re brothers; they’re at once rough with and kind to one another. They make do.

Thor ultimately moves wrong and their teeth clank together. “Ow,” Loki says against his brother's chin.

“We shouldn’t do this,” Thor whispers into the tiny pocket of space between them. “It’s wrong and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Loki shifts to sit somewhere closer to sideways. His fingers tangle in Thor’s damp hair. “I don’t care,” he says. “I want it anyway.”

~

They call it quits for real when Loki gets a little carried away and draws blood. The metallic taste shocks something like sense back into them and Loki slumps bonelessly down against Thor’s front. Both of them are panting.

“It’s pretty,” Loki rasps at last. He clears his throat. “The lightning.”

“Mmm,” Thor hums. His voice is just as rough as his brother’s. “I’m glad we came outside.”

“Yeah,” Loki agrees, snorting quietly. His fingers slide along the wet skin of Thor’s arm, feather light. “Me, too.”

They sit tangled together, just watching the storm, until the lightning stops and the downpour tapers down to the lightest of sprinkles. Thor rubs his eyes; Loki yawns.

“We should go to bed,” Thor tells his brother. He doesn’t mean it the way it probably sounds. He really, really doesn’t.

None of that ends up mattering. As the two of them struggle to their feet, stiff and a little awkward, the power comes back on. The house lights up, taking the moment with it.

_Later_ , Thor promises himself. _We can always finish whatever this is up another time._


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of things have aftermaths.

Loki lies on his back with all the lights off, staring off into dark nothingness in the general direction of the ceiling. The mercury vapor security lamp out by the driveway doesn’t reach this side of the house. The other one, on the warped, twisting pole out by the barn, which once cast the room in sharp shadow and made it difficult for the boys (back when they were young enough to proudly describe themselves that way) to sleep - without the shades drawn, at least - came down years ago with the rest of the outbuildings. It probably should have been replaced, since rural doesn’t exactly mean safe. So far, though, no one’s bothered.

The edges of his lips burn. He and his brother have finally hit the point where they’re old enough to have started shaving a couple of times a week, and both of them do, but Thor’s scruff is already bordering on a man’s beard whereas Loki’s facial hair is both softer and sparser.

He traces the outline of his mouth with one finger, shivering at the tingly jolts of pain. If he shuts his eyes tightly he can still feel his brother’s lips on his own. The way they moved, the warm wetness behind them. The feel of them as Thor’s tongue had-.

Loki shifts and pulls just the sheet over himself. It’s not that he’s cold; far from it. He just feels- naked. Exposed.

Like he wants to do all of it again.

And again.

Over the fan Loki hears the gurgling flush of the toilet, the one in the bathroom he and Thor share. The pipes knock and clang as Thor must actually stop to wash his hands for a change.

Loki groans. He flops onto his side, kicking and flailing to free his feet from the tangled, sticky bedding. As the door swings open he quickly stills.

~

Thor throws his clothes next to the hamper. He doesn’t bother turning on a light, either the overhead fixture or the brass monstrosity on the desk near the door; he knows this place like the back of his hand, after all. The back of his hand which, Thor can’t help but notice once he brings it slowly and carefully up to his face, smells a little like rain… and a lot like his brother. He brushes his lips over the skin above his knuckles, pressing just close enough to catch the very tips of the tiny, tiny hairs, and hums.

His lower lip is sore and puffy in the two spots where Loki had managed to bite it earlier. Thor has his cover story all planned out – he’s going to tell their parents the two of them were horsing around and he’d somehow bitten himself – but he’s checked his face out in the mirror… he knows it’s going to be a tough sell. There are clear tooth marks involved, several of them, and the arc they form is all wrong. All he can hope is that no one inspects him too closely.

He’s still pondering the situation with his brother as he stretches, thinking about Loki in all sorts of ways he probably shouldn’t be, until his yawn turns into something closer to a moan.

When he hears muffled laughter from the top bunk, Thor can’t help himself. He shrieks.

Loki laughs more loudly. “I didn’t know I had a little sister,” he teases. “Seriously, Thor. _What_ was that noise?”

Thor shakes his arms out. “You startled me is all.” He clears his throat. “I didn’t think you would be in here.”

“The power might go out again,” his brother offers. “I figured maybe we should stay together.”

“But what if mom and dad check in on us when they get home?” Thor’s voice breaks a little. It’s almost like he’s starting puberty all over again.

“As long as you’re in one bunk and I’m in the other,” Loki says, “I think we’re fine. We shared this room for years,” he goes on, “and that really was some random weather.”

Thor is still stuck back around _one bunk_ somewhere. His brother is right, of course, but he’s stupidly disappointed regardless. “Um, yeah,” he concedes. “G’night, Loki.”

He secretly hopes, in his heart of hearts, that he’ll wake up in the morning all wrapped around his brother. The way they have a thousand times before… except this time it will be different.

~

Frigga rounds the whole family up and makes them go together to get their passport photos taken. Odin doesn’t need one done, as he already has a valid passport to begin with, but he comes along for the ride and takes them all out for old-fashioned milkshakes afterwards.

Thor gets strawberry.

Loki gets Oreo cookie, because he hates smooth, featureless ice cream – even in his drinks - and the crunchy chunks of chocolate with their bits of soft filling are much more pleasant than the slimy coolness of melting frozen fruit.

Frigga orders peanut butter.

The twins tell their father he’ll have to go without, since he didn’t suffer through the actual photography session. He laughs and goes for the pistachio anyway.

Both Thor and Loki make faces and pretend to gag. “Gross, dad,” Loki complains. “Who gets a pistachio milkshake? That is so, so wrong.”

“Quiet down,” Odin warns them both. He’s having a hard time keeping a straight face. “Or I’ll make you drink it.”

Loki grimaces. “I’d rather die.”

~

Frigga stores all of the passport materials in a large gold envelope on her desk. It’s not like it’s sealed or anything. Just the same, Thor knows he shouldn’t be poking through it. Shouldn’t be _snooping._

He can’t help himself. Loki needs to know. _He_ needs to know.

Thor waits until no one is around the house at all – Frigga and Odin are at work, Loki is doing something out in the yard – and then lets himself into the office. He makes sure to close the door carefully behind him, just in case. His heart thuds against his ribs as he unties the envelope’s clasp and carefully slides the contents out into his waiting hand.

Pictures. Applications, carefully completed and waiting for their signatures.

Frigga’s own expired passport, from some past life about which Thor’s not sure they’ve ever been told.

Thor’s birth certificate, the one his mother had shown him earlier.

A second birth certificate, crisp and new. _Farbautison, Loki_ , it reads. The paper is pale pink rather than creamy tan, and the seal is different. Thor skims down it, his hands shaking. The date of birth is right; a day after his own.

The names in the _Mother_ and _Father_ boxes, though, he’s never seen before.

When he flips the certificate over to look at its (blank, featureless) back, there it is underneath: another sheet of paper, marked _Adoption Decree_.

Thor’s shaking all over now, so much so that it’s hard to put everything away neatly. Maybe he succeeds, maybe he doesn’t.

As he staggers out into the hallway, he nearly runs face-first into his- his _brother_.

“Are you okay,” Loki asks him, frowning up into his face. “Brother? What’s wrong?”

“Um-,” Thor stalls. “Nothing.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one is sure what to do.

Frigga marches into the office. She’s on an all-too-familiar mission: hunting for her reading glasses. She really should just break down and admit she needs bifocals – she could probably buy back two hours each week by not having to waste time hunting for the stupid things all over the house – but most of the time holding out still feels easier. Even though her boys tower over her now, tall and strong and almost men, she’s not ready to be _old_ yet.

_There you are, you little suckers_ , she tells the glasses and their glossy red case. _Found you!_ Unsurprisingly, they’re right where she’d left them earlier in the week… when she was putting everyone’s new passport photos into the-.

Huh.

The envelope is still lying where she’d set it on her desk, tucked half under a stack of bills and statements. Now, though, it’s lying string side up. Maybe it’s only that she’s being a little paranoid, but she’s sure she left it sitting other way around.

That, and the closure is laced up backwards. The thick, waxed thread is wound counterclockwise, around both the top and bottom buttons.

It’s as though – unlike Frigga herself - the last person to neatly and precisely close the envelope was left-handed.

Like _Thor_ , for instance. Both he and Loki are functionally ambidextrous, but Thor is the one who invariably favors his left hand for this sort of fine motor work.

Thor is the only lefty in the household.

Crap. Frigga has a moment of awful panic, the kind that leaves her feeling dizzy and a little sick. She _knew_ she should have put the envelope back in the safe right after she’d finished tucking their new passport photos safely inside. She never, ever leaves anything like this lying around. But it was only going to be for a day or so; she had already arranged her schedule around taking a long lunch tomorrow and getting everything submitted.

She’d been afraid that, if she stashed the packet safely away, she’d rush out and forget to bring everything with her.

That, and the kids never go in the office. It’s devoid of anything fun and stuffed full of the sorts of boring grown-up things – tax documents and flowcharts and glossy brochures showcasing the latest in agricultural equipment – the two of them avoid at any cost. Nothing chases teens away like semi-automated pickers and computerized milking machines. The art on the walls is pretty, all warm colors and calming pastoral landscapes, but it doesn’t even begin to compensate for the general tedium.

She’s not sure either of her sons will follow their father into business. In fact, she’s pretty confident they won’t.

Loki has always said he wants to be a veterinarian.

Thor wants to work with his hands, to make use of the power contained in his body. He plays sports because he can, but he’s driven to make and to build. Frigga hopes he follows his brother to college. Everything goes along more smoothly with a degree these days.

It’s all well worth pondering, but it does nothing whatsoever to solve the present problem.

~

“I’m not sure what to do,” Frigga tells Odin early that evening. They’re in the kitchen getting dinner together while Loki and Thor are busy washing the car. That is, Thor is washing the car. Loki mostly seems to be washing his brother. There’s lots of running and squealing going on; if she stretches up onto her tiptoes to lean over the sink Frigga can see them horsing around from the kitchen window.

Just now, Thor has Loki pinned at the hips and is busy trying to scrub his face with the big, soapy sponge. Loki is shrieking and thrashing. The hose is way over by the car, twisting and flipping and spraying water everywhere. Normally Frigga would go to the door and holler at them to stop wasting water. Tonight, she’s just happy to see them functioning normally.

To see them laughing and playing and free.

“I don’t know that he even found anything,” she tells her husband. “I’m not even really sure he was snooping. Or whatever it was he was – or wasn’t - doing.” She doesn’t want to make a problem where there isn’t one already.

Odin steps up behind her and sets his big, warm hands on the rounded ends of her shoulders. “If we tell them-.”

“ _When_ ,” she corrects him gently. “Not if; when.”

He gives her shoulders a quick squeeze. “ _When_ , then. Anyway, in terms of _when_ , I think we should wait until we get back from Europe.” He goes on to explain, as she stirs the white chicken chili to keep it from sticking, that he doesn’t want anything to mar their big vacation. He would really rather have this trip be childhood’s last hurrah than the first strained, uncomfortable excursion of adulthood.

She gets that. She really, really does. As much as she’s enjoying their company, Frigga would give everything she has to keep her babies young and sheltered forever. It’s not realistic, though, or healthy. More than that, even, it’s not even possible. “But what if they already know,” she asks. “I want them to have the facts, not something – worse, probably - they’ve cooked up for themselves.”

Frigga wants her sons to know how much and how unconditionally they are loved.

Odin leans forward to rest his cheek against her hair. “They’re having such a good time,” he says softly as Thor wrests the hose away from Loki and actually uses it to rinse the car for a change. “I just don’t think I have it me to ruin that for them.”

~

Thor wants to tell his brother the shocking news at every possible opportunity. While they’re out behind the house filling the buckets and uncoiling the hose. Out in the yard, as they’re fighting over the detergent and taking turns slapping away at one another with the sponge. Later on, when Loki is patiently wiping the car with a chamois and he himself is- looking on.

That time, Thor gets lost in the way Loki’s pale skin slides over the bumps of his spine and the rippling muscles in his back and arms. His brother is a beautiful thing to behold.

Loki’s wet, slippery, shirtless body distracts Thor completely, so much so that he drops one of the buckets and spills water all over the driveway (and his own feet).

“What the hell?” Loki jumps at the loud, clanging crash. The bucket rolls noisily off down the driveway. “What’s the _matter_ with you,” he snaps.

Thor quickly thumbs through his options. “I want to touch you,” he says quietly.

His brother cocks a perfect black eyebrow. “Right out here, in the yard, with our parents watching. What a great idea.” Loki smirks. “ _Brother_.”

There are so many things Thor could say. So, so many.

He doesn’t.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Secrets have always weighed heavily on Thor.

The afternoon is a hot one, about as hot as it ever gets here. A mirage shimmers over the narrow strip of asphalt at the end of the driveway.

Thor has finally finished mowing every last bit of the yard. He's parked the tractor by the garage (the mower deck needs cleaning but it's going to have to wait for sundown) and is neatening things up with the line trimmer when temptation once again gets the better of him.

Loki is wearing actual headphones - not just his customary earbuds - against the noise; when his brother gets too close (yet again) and sprays him with tiny, sting itchy flecks of grass, it startles him badly. The clippers go flying. They hit the house handles first with a thunk he can feel in his knees and drop into the bushes.

"You asshole," Loki howls. He rips off the headphones and leaps up to tear after Thor. His brother backs away, laughing and brandishing the still-running trimmer.

"Stand down or be flayed," Thor threatens over the machine's awful buzzing whine.

Loki bares his teeth and hisses. "I hate you," he shrieks over the noise. His own weapon, such as it is, is buried somewhere in behind the yews. Retrieving it is going to suck, plain and simple.

"No you don't," Thor shouts back. The trimmer idles down. "You love me, actually," his brother tells him in a more normal speaking voice. "You're just too chicken to admit it."

Loki makes a face. "Go get my clippers," he demands.

"Right," Thor says. "Who died and left you in charge?" He turns to go back to the edging. "Get them yourself," he calls over his shoulder. "You're the one who dropped them."

"Fucker," Loki huffs under his breath. He turns around sharply and almost smacks into Frigga. "Sorry, mom," he says, meaning _for everything._

She smiles. "I was just coming out to see what all the fuss was about," she says, looking at him a lot more closely. The overall effect is that of being x-rayed. Well, or _peeled_.

"It's nothing," he tells her, looking down as he brushes bits of grass off his arms. "I just dropped the clippers."

"And I don't suppose your brother had anything to do with that," Frigga prods. She reaches up to catch his chin. "Did he?"

Loki shrugs. He lets himself smirk just a little. "Maybe?"

"Mm." Frigga turns to survey the row of yews. "Come inside when you're finished with this last one," she suggests, nodding towards the half-clipped yew closest to the door... the one he'd been shaping when he'd been so rudely interrupted. "I could use some help making cookies."

~

When Thor finishes using the trimmer he spends a few minutes with the hose, first to clean the trimmer head - no one likes the smell of moldy,  
rotting grass, himself very much included - and then to rinse his own tanned arms and legs. Before he shuts off the water he tips the hose straight up and drinks from it like it's a fountain. Water straight from the hose always tastes a little stale, like rubber in the sun.

He doesn't care. It's a taste that’s synonymous with _summer_.

~

Hard as it is to believe, it's even hotter in the kitchen. Even with the window wide open and one of the big fans going, the oven is definitely winning. Thor takes a deep breath; the air smells like sweaty cocoa.

He pads over to the refrigerator. His bare, wet feet squeak on the linoleum. "Hey," he says as Loki turns towards the sound. His brother has a jaunty smudge of chocolate over one eye. The strands of hair escaping from Loki's stubby ponytail curl into tiny ringlets. "Where's mom?"

"In dad's office. He yelled out to say he needed help with something."

Thor grabs two bottles of sparkling water out of the refrigerator door. With the trip to Europe looming ever nearer, their parents are trying to broaden everyone's culinary horizons. "Want one?"

Loki nods and wipes a hand on his apron. The ruffled thing is one of Frigga's and over his shorts it looks like a frilly maid's uniform.

Thor forces himself to glance back up towards their drinks. "Here," he says, passing one cold bottle to his brother. "Ahh." They press their bottles to their cheeks in simultaneous, identical gestures. The cold feels so good. "Ahh," he sighs again, happily.

"Want a cookie?" Loki points with one sharp elbow towards the wire cooling racks lining the counter. "They're hot," he cautions.

Even in the steamy heat of summer cookies are still best fresh from the oven. Thor takes two and does a little juggling dance to keep his fingers from burning. He ends up shoving them both into his mouth at the same time. "Eees are uhrate," he says thickly, through a mouthful of hot, chocolaty goodness.

Loki smiles. "Of course they are," he teases. "Look who made them."

The timer buzzes. Loki hurries back to the oven and throws the door open. A fresh wave of moist chocolate heat rolls through the kitchen. Thor takes a big swig of his water. His brother's rump looks particularly nice jutting into the air by the counter. He can't help but remember how it felt in his lap in the rain.

He clears his throat and thinks of Loki's pink birth certificate instead. _My brother, and yet not._ "Would you still like me," he asks softly, "if we weren't related?"

Loki snorts. "That's a little presumptuous of you," he says. "Who says I like you now?" He shoots a quick look at Thor and goes back to carefully sliding the steaming cookies off the cookie sheet. One catches on the edge of the spatula and folds messily in half. "I mean, why would I? Look at what you make me do!"

"I'm serious," Thor grumbles. He takes another cookie and yelps as it _does_ burn his fingers this time. "Would you?"

Loki sets the empty cookie sheet in the sink and turns to look at Thor. He chews his bottom lip. "I dunno," he says at last. "I probably wouldn't even know you."

Thor's stomach flips. "But if you did," he prompts again. He sucks on his stinging fingers and then decides they'd be happier against the cold bottle.

Loki grins. "I would think you were hot. Hot, but stupid. Shh," he soothes as Thor growls. "I'd be wrong, silly. But... why?"

Thor shrugs. He just can't say it. "I was just- curious."

"Ah," Loki says. "I see."

"Hi, you two," Frigga says brightly from the kitchen doorway. Thor and Loki both jump; Thor sloshes sparkling water on his hand. It fizzes; tiny bubbles pop and spray everywhere.

"Hi, mom," the boys say in unison, both a little breathless. "Want a cookie?"


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is acting odd and Loki for one is not buying it.

Loki may be many things, some of which are undoubtedly worse than others, but he’s definitely no idiot.

Everyone else in the house is- they’re acting weird. There just isn’t any other way to describe it.

At first he’d been willing to blame it on his famously overactive imagination. As the collective weirdness had gotten harder and harder to ignore, he’d decided it might just be Thor’s reaction to- to some of what they’d gotten up to recently (pun perhaps intended and perhaps not).

After a couple of weeks of it, though, Loki’s decided it’s not that simple. He’s come to the solid conclusion that something more must be going on. The whole family is in on it, everyone but him, but no one is talking. Or, they are talking, but not about anything useful. They’re lying, in fact. He’s sure of it.

He’s confronted his brother directly several times and gotten nothing but increasingly ridiculous answers. Thor’s eyes follow him everywhere, and his brother’s feet follow him nearly as often, but every time Loki presses about why everyone is behaving so oddly Thor tells him- something dumb.

“Huh? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“How am I acting weird? You’re the weird one.”

“Um, what do you want to see in Rome?”

“Here, take the last of the ice cream.”

Odd as it might sound to an outsider, to Loki’s way of thinking it was really that last one that pushed the whole business way past _peculiar_ and well into _highly suspicious_.

Both Thor and Loki claim to love ice cream more than anything else in the world and his brother has never once – not as long as Loki can remember, which is quite a long time indeed – surrendered the final bowlful without a struggle. Not even the night before grocery shopping, when nothing short of a truly major act of god would prevent the arrival of a fresh supply well before the next time anyone went looking. _Anyone_ , in this case, meaning _Thor_.

No, even getting his brother to split the last dish (screw _evenly_ ; just a bite or two) is normally a wasted effort.

Thor has been known to joke (their parents _think_ it’s only joking, at least) about how he’d sooner die than go without, and these days Loki is inclined to believe him.

Point of fact: Over the course of their teen years the Great Ice Cream War had continued to escalate until, after Loki had escaped with the last of the chocolate one time early last fall, things had gotten totally ridiculous. The very next week, when they were once again down to the last few scoops, Thor had raided the freezer and shoved Loki out of the way to race out of the kitchen. Before Loki could recover his footing and catch up, his brother had practically flown up the attic stairs and straight out onto the second floor roof - carton and spoon proudly in hand – just to avoid sharing. 

Ever since his own fall Loki has been increasingly afraid of heights.

That sad day he could hardly even stand to _look at_ his brother out there in the sun, sitting jauntily astride the ridgepole. Their parents weren’t particularly pleased about it either. It had been an effective strategy, though; ever since then Loki has always conceded the battle early to head off even the smallest risk of a repeat performance.

Even in the dead of winter, Loki invariably gives in. He’d like to think his brother has more sense than to clamber out onto the roof in the snow. He’d _like_ to, but he kind of doesn’t.

So…

Thor voluntarily offering the last bowl of ice cream? It’s the microcosmic equivalent of the sun coming up purple. Or maybe even not coming up at all.

Loki has considered the problem from all angles and no matter how you look at it… something is definitely going on.

Whatever it is, it bears investigating.

~

Thor has plans on Saturday afternoon. The details are a little fuzzy, mostly because Loki hadn’t listened as carefully as he probably could have when his brother was blathering on about it, but it’s something involving Fandral’s house, the football team, and a pool. Thor has indeed invited Loki along and, normally (even though including him was clearly an afterthought and not what any of Thor’s friends really want to see happen), Loki would swallow his pride and go. Because there’s a pool. Pools are right up there with ice cream, at least in such suffocating weather.

This week, though, time alone – usually so hard to come by, which isn’t generally a problem because he loves spending every summer day with his brother – takes precedence.

~

Loki waits until Thor leaves – it’s a lunch/afternoon thing; Fandral’s parents are home and they know their son, meaning there’s no way they’re going to risk a rowdy evening party – and then flips down from his perch in the hammock to grab his suit and towel from the line. “It’s so hot,” he complains to his mother as he ambles past her on the porch. “I’m dying. I’ve changed my mind… I’m going to the party after all.”

When she asks if he needs a ride, he thanks her nicely but says he’d rather take his bike. That way, he reminds her, he and Thor can ride home together.

“Have fun, sweetie,” she calls after him as he pedals slowly out of the garage, backpack on and helmet fastened. “Call if you need anything.”

~

He does ride towards town, like he’s going to Fandral’s house. Doing so doesn’t pose a problem because Loki is actually heading to the library. The Odinsons live too far out in the sticks to have broadband Internet access at the house… Odin uses a cellular hotspot that belongs to his company, but the kids are pretty much never allowed to connect to it.

At least, that’s what their parents think.

In reality Loki had hacked into it a while back, in relentless pursuit of gay porn, but once Odin had started asking dangerously pointed questions about mysteriously high bandwidth consumption he’d had to make the painful decision to stop using it.

Now he gets his porn at school, using the assistant principal’s credentials. In a warped way, that only seems fair.

~

The library is busier than he’d expected, probably because it’s broiling outside and the building is always air-conditioned. Loki has to wait a few minutes for a computer to free up, and the technology librarian is hovering. He can see he’s going to be held to the 30-minute limit.

To make sure that’s enough, Loki uses his wait time to get his thoughts organized. That, and he enjoys the artificial coolness. In a few minutes he’s actually shivering, mostly from the cold.

Laufeyson. 

Laufey.

_Would you still like me if we weren’t related?_

Taken in combination with Thor’s weird behavior, and the various odd ways their parents are acting, Loki can only wonder: Is his brother adopted?

It would explain a lot, like how the two of them are supposedly twins but look as different as night and day. It could be the reason their parents don’t seem to have nearly as many baby pictures as most families do. For good or bad, and he thinks it’s good, it might even be a factor in how he and Thor have- how they share something that can’t really be handwaved away under the broad heading of _brotherly affection_.

~

_Thor Laufeyson_ , Loki types when it’s finally his turn to sit down in front of the computer. He takes a deep breath and clicks the magnifying glass. While the browser “thinks,” its little wheel spinning, he finds he has to close his eyes.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki learns a thing or two, and it's not what he expected.

It happens precisely at the 27-minute mark.

Loki knows – right now, as it's happening - that he will remember this moment for the rest of his life. He glances down at the timer, past where his hand on the mouse looks almost blue (the disgusting sort of mottled, greyish blue dead people in the movies tend to turn) thanks to the screen's glow, and then back up at the browser that’s open in front of him.

Down: 27 minutes.

Up: The county website. This county, the one he grew up in.

_Public Records_ , the header reads.

He has to blink a couple of times before he can make himself focus on the page in front of him. This particular _public record_ (one of surprisingly many for such a small-feeling town) is spelled out in black-on-cream columns. All of it. Factual, precise, orderly. Like the entire rest of the site, this page is framed on all sides by jaunty blue and green tourism bureau scenery. Generic. Fake and cheery, nothing like the real thing.

The pictures may be pretty and the details may look neat, but life- life is messy. So, so messy. Loki blinks again, and again.

The page stares back at him with the blind, unflinching, soulless eyes of a machine.

His heart is hammering so badly it actually feels like it’s skipping.

~

There isn't any _Thor Laufeyson_ , not that he’s been able to find in 26 and a half minutes of increasingly frustrated searching. In fact, he hasn’t been able to find anything about Thor at all (outside of, duh, at least a gazillion football moments), and it isn’t for lack of effort.

Loki hasn’t come up completely empty, however. There apparently _is_ a Laufey. Was, that is... the record staring him in the face says _deceased_ , which probably means the guy was that same sickly grey-blue himself once. Laufey had been married to, the entry says, and subsequently widowed by one Farbauti. The last names are there, too. Loki knows they are. His eyes do see them. When the images make their way up to his brain, they simply don't register.

He skims, again, because not enough of this is sticking. Laufey and Farbauti had three sons, it seems, well before either of their deaths. Two of them - Helblindi, Byleister; there's little question at all as to the ill-fated little family's ancestry, at least going by their names - are considerably older than Thor. Loki quickly does the rough math; both of them would be well into their 30’s by now, perhaps with their own spouses and children.

The third would be exactly the right age. Exactly. Both right, and very wrong. This last child and Thor all but share a birthday. They were born so close together that it would only have taken a few hours in either direction to make the two of them virtual _twins_.

Loki rubs at his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

_Loptr_. The third baby's name was Loptr.

It’s a perfectly respectable name. Except for how it’s nothing like Thor... and yet a whole lot like Loki.

Specifically, it’s very much like _this_ Loki, whose birthday - day, month, and year – baby Loptr just happens to share.

Maybe it’s mere coincidence, but it _feels_ like more. It’s pretty creepy.

29 minutes. Loki clicks through to Farbauti's page, which is far less complete than her (equally late) husband’s. Only one of her children is listed... the youngest, listed here as Loptr Farbautison. There isn't any mention of Laufey.

Loptr.

Farbautison.

Holy shit.

Holy, holy _shit_.

No. Just… no.

~

"Excuse me, sir," the librarian says softly. Loki jumps back from the computer like it's burned him. His hands are pink and white again, and shaking. "I didn't mean to startle you," she apologizes. "It's just that your time is up, and there's quite the line today."

"Um. Right. Sorry." Loki stands a little too abruptly. The legs of his chair screech on the scuffed stone floor. "I'm done. I’m going." He leans in to X out of the browser, fumbling the mouse a little in his rush to do so, and turns to leave.

He makes it about five long strides.

"Don't forget your bag," the librarian calls after him, not so quietly this time. All around the room people are starting to stare. "Is everything all right?" She hands him the bag, which he slings up onto his shoulder. The padded nylon is cool now, almost _too_ cold through the thin fabric of his worn t-shirt, but the thing is still damp and sweaty from his hot ride here. It’s gross.

He nods.

She does smile, but she looks a bit concerned. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"What? No. I mean yes. I'm fine," he says, edging away, "and I got what I needed. Thanks. Um, bye?"

One foot in front of the other. Rinse, repeat. Until he's outside the building Loki somehow manages not to run.

~

He doesn’t run far once he reaches the door, either.

The parking lot is like a blast furnace. He’d been inside long enough that the shady spots have shifted and his bike is nearly half in the sun. The handlebars are bearable, just warm from the air, but the seat is scorching. He touches the back of one knuckle to it and jumps away with a sharp yip.

There isn’t any way he can ride the thing, not without blistering his inner thighs right off. Loki curses under his breath and – pushing his bike awkwardly alongside himself, careful not to let it touch his skin – trudges away.

~

“Hey! You’re here!” Thor races up to him as Loki pedals (he’s opted to ride standing up, but the seat doesn’t bear quite as much resemblance to molten lava as it did a couple of miles ago) into Fandral’s back yard. The whole team is there, and then some; guys in trunks and board shorts, cheerleaders in skimpy, colorful bikinis there’s no way their parents bought them. Everyone is splashing and yelling.

There’s a miniature volleyball net stretching across the pool, but no one really seems to be playing.

“You okay?” Thor ducks to try to get a better look at Loki’s face. His blond hair is tangled and dripping.

“Yeah,” Loki pants. “I’m just roasting,” he lies. “Where can I change?” He _needs_ to go swimming. That, or his head might explode. He’s hyperventilating and nauseated.

“In Fandral’s bedroom,” Thor suggests. “Here, put your bike down. I’ll show you.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki doesn't handle the news well. Neither does Odin.

He should stay at the party. It's his cover, for both Thor and their- and _Thor's_ mother, because apparently _his_ mother is some dead Scandinavian farmer's equally dead wife from the other side of the county, and doesn't _that_ just figure. Loki knows he needs to keep his head down; that things are more than bad enough already and, if he isn't careful, he'll find himself in a world of trouble.

Except he really doesn't care anymore, because his brother isn't his brother and- and- and he's a poor cast-off orphan with no family and no friends and it's hardly any wonder Amora was drawn to such damaged goods to a loser to such garbage that his own family kicked him to the curb so he and his rotten dirty twisted little soul could go off into the world at large and wreck the lives of perfectly nice people who never did a thing wrong in their whole lifetimes EXCEPT FUCKING LIE TO HIM from the moment of his birth. Well, no, from the moment of his purchase.

Because Loki knows it now... he wasn't born an Odinson. He wasn't born any man's son. He was bought and sold like chattel, someone’s broken doll, a creepy little fag no one wants anything to do with.

The cuckoo in the nest, only there for one purpose: eating the other sweet little defenseless fledglings.

An evil, horrible, home-wrecking monster. So bad his birth parents died for the simple sin of having brought him into the world... for giving him life and then pawning him off on the unsuspecting. Loki, harbinger of incest and perversion.

Destroyer of the innocent.

Like Thor, waiting out in the hallway all strong and gorgeous in his red trunks, completely blind to the serpent who will ultimately lure him to his death (and worse, far worse) with sin instead of apples.

Loki digs his nails into his own palms and struggles to get himself under control.

He can fix this. He can run away and leave the suckers who adopted him to go on with their happy, healthy, unsullied lives. He can pretend nothing is wrong until there's no alternative left and then- what? Jump off a bridge or something? Or maybe he's really not human and can't even die, a la the fall from the haymow. Maybe he's here on earth to ruin the families of LYING LIARS WHO WOULD FAKE LOVING A CHILD UNTIL THE RIGHT TIME TO CRUSH ITS LITTLE HEART like a beetle beneath their boot heels.

_You can be whatever you want_ , they've told him, and _we'll always love you, whatever you are._ WHATEVER YOU ARE.

How has he been so fucking _stupid_?

"Loki? You coming out?" Thor's voice is muffled, because Loki has his own head buried deep in a huge beach towel. The fluffy thing smells like dryer sheets and he secretly thinks that alone may kill him. Or it would, if he could ever get that lucky. "Sif needs to pee."

" _Thanks, old pal_ ," Sif grumbles, "Just tell everybody, why don't you?" She laughs, though. No one ever really gets mad at his- at the guy who isn’t really his brother.

"Sorry," Loki yells through the towel. "Just gimme a second."

He drops everything onto the counter and glares at himself in the mirror: huge eyes, sweaty hair, and greenish-white face, his bare chest blotchy red. "You're disgusting," he tells himself, too quietly for Sif and Thor to hear. He tugs his trunks up where they’re hanging half off his scrawny butt, grabs his stuff (and the towel, because who wants to get monster-sweat on their hands?), and opens the door.

Thor and Sif both squint at him. "Are you sick," Sif asks as Thor frowns. “You look awful.”

_Oh, you have NO idea_ , he thinks. "Nope," he says instead, forcing a pained little smile onto his sweating face. "Just overheated."

"Well, then," Thor suggests, any need to _go talk about what's wrong_ completely (thankfully) forgotten. "Let's get you in the water."

Being slung over his bro- over _Thor's_ shoulder, hurried through the house in a chaotic whirlwind of dropped clothes and thrashing, and tossed unceremoniously into the pool helps. If nothing else, Loki knows, it gives him an absolutely airtight excuse for screaming bloody murder.

And scream he does, until he simply can’t anymore.

~

When he overhears some of Thor's teammates gossiping about his sexual preferences, because _that_ topic isn’t a dead horse or anything, Loki decides he can't stand the party anymore after all. If he stays he's going to do something regrettable. "I'll see you at home," he tells Thor on has way back inside the house to collect his scattered belongings. “Don't worry," he adds, letting himself relish the flash of real hurt in Thor's eyes. He's a monster. He can behave and think like one. "I know you won't actually miss me."

~

The chill of the pool wears off unpleasantly quickly. By the time Loki makes his way back to the Odinson house he is sweat-drenched and tear-streaked and smelly.

Frigga's car isn't in the driveway, which might be a relief.

Odin's not home either, and that definitely is one. Loki has the place to himself to- to what? To pack? To fall from the roof, one more (the last) in a string of tragic accidents that defines him?

In the end he decides it's simply too hot for such drama and wilts into the sofa cushions.

~

When Odin comes home, maybe an hour or so before he expects anyone else should be there, it’s to find Loki – balled up in a three-quarters-naked knot on the couch - bawling so loudly that it’s impossible not to sneak up on him.

“Loki,” he says as quietly as he can, carefully pitching his voice just loud enough to cut through the noise Loki’s making. He sets a hand on his son’s bony ankle and gets kicked away. “What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

“Get away from me,” Loki snaps, recoiling. He scoots backwards until he’s wedged up against the couch arm. “You- I hate you. You’re a liar.”

Odin stiffens. No. This isn’t- this can’t be happening. Not without Frigga here to help. Not when it’s just the two of them. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he says, by force of habit. 

Of course, it’s only about half a second before he realizes (belatedly, and that’s bound to be a problem) that he’s just proved Loki’s point. Odin shuts his eyes for a long moment and takes a deep breath. He isn’t good at this sort of thing, not at all. “I’m sorry,” he says, and keeps going over Loki’s hiss. “I think I _do_ know what you mean,” he corrects, “and this isn’t how we wanted you to find out.”

“Oh, I can _see_ that. In fact, you didn’t want me to FIND OUT AT ALL.” Loki’s voice rises to a screech and then cracks. “Look at the poor dumb little charity case… ,” he rasps. “Weren’t those _Odinsons_ good to take him?”

“Loki,” Odin tries again. This is everything he never wanted and the some. “That’s not how it was. Not how it _is_. You’re not dumb, and this isn’t charity.”

“No, you’re right. Charity would have been _drowning me_ like a sack of fucking rats.” Loki bares his teeth. “Getting rid of me before I could do any real damage.”

“Please,” Odin begs, gulping for air. “Don’t.” He’s suddenly incredibly dizzy, so much so he can barely keep his head together. The room tilts violently. He tries to steady himself against the closest chair but can feel he’s missed. _This is going to hurt_ , he thinks, because time slows to a crawl when things are going badly wrong, and then _uh oh._

“Dad? Dad!!” Loki is screaming. He sounds so far away. Odin wonders where he’s gone. “Help! Dad! No. Dad! I don’t know what to do!”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are better, but worse.

After (what’s probably only) a minute or so (but feels like several lifetimes) Loki comes to his senses. _Cell phone_. He knows he’s the one who’d had it with him, he reminds himself as he roots around in his backpack, because Thor always feels that – of the two of them – Loki is the one who’s more likely to need it. Their collective few years of experience probably don’t count as real science, but so far his brother hasn’t been wrong. Not about that, anyway.

There isn’t time to think about the _why_ , not with his dad lying facedown and motionless in front of the sofa.

It’s hard to read the small screen with his eyes all swollen from crying.

“Please help,” Loki bleats when the emergency guy answers. “My father- fell. I’m not sure what happened,” he offers without prompting. It’s not really even a lie, since he actually doesn’t know, but it certainly feels like one.

Loki obediently follows directions in a slow-minded fog as the guy walks him through the basics. Breathing? Check. Conscious? No. History of anything like this? Not that Loki knows of. He says no but then can’t help but wonder if this is something else that’s been kept from him. He tries to say “my parents don’t tell me everything” but chokes up and has to stop somewhere around _don’t_.

After Loki finishes reciting their address the guy suggests that he wait outside. “It will be easier for the ambulance to find you if you’re out there waving.”

It probably would be, but Loki thinks of the stories Thor’s told him – the ones about holding his bleeding, battered body tight in the barn – and just can’t bring himself to leave Odin here on the floor alone. “There’s a huge tree out by the road,” he says instead of agreeing. “And big numbers on the mailbox. Don’t worry,” he assures the guy. “They can’t miss it.”

The man keeps him on the phone anyway, right up until his stupid, cheap battery dies. _Maybe_ , Loki thinks, more to have something to keep his mind occupied than anything, _we should be better about putting this thing on the charger._

_Oh_ , he thinks later on, when the silence really starts to get to him, _please hurry_.

~

It’s cold in the Emergency Department waiting room, especially after the relentless heat outside. He vaguely remembers the ambulance’s having been a little less broiling hot inside than out, enough so that it hadn’t felt like a giant solar oven, but the driver had insisted that Loki sit upfront – had given him a chivalrous hand up, as though he was some sort of delicate flower – and he’d spent the ride so busy worrying about his father than he hadn’t really even had a chance to think about the temperature.

“Can I call someone for you, kid,” the driver had asked as they’d pulled out onto the highway. All Loki had been able to come up with in his flustered state was that Thor didn’t have the phone. Oh, and that he hadn’t thought to leave a note (or to lock the door, even… his brother will get home and think the house has been ransacked, and Loki kidnapped… the last he’d seen, there’d been quite a bit of furniture pushed out of the way to make room for the ambulance crew and their gurney). The idea of calling Frigga hadn’t even dawned on him, not until he’d been ushered off to sit here in the ugly waiting room just through the main doors/. By then the crew had vanished deep into the bowels of the ED somewhere.

~

The longer he sits, alone, the colder Loki gets. He’s goose-bumpy and blue-lipped and shaking by the time someone finally comes to find him. “Mr. Odinson,” the slender middle-aged man – blue scrubs, stethoscope, pocket full of pens and other miscellaneous crap – says.

_Ahmed, RN_ , the dangling nametag reads.

Loki tries to recover his composure. _Mr. Odinson_ is his dad. “Hm,” he manages. Ahmed looks friendly enough, if kind of worried. There isn’t any reason to act like an idiot.

“Are you all right?”

That particular question is getting beyond old. Maybe he needs to start wearing a sign. “Um,” he says. Ahmed has tiny spatters of something that could be blood across the front of his shirt, right at Loki’s eyelevel. “My dad- how- is he okay?”

“He’s awake,” Ahmed says. “His doctors have a lot of tests to run, but he seems to be feeling better now. He wants to talk to you.”

“I want,” Loki’s mouth says of its own accord as soon as he gets it open, “my mom.” _You go, tough guy_. So cool, so impressive.

~

“Loki!” Frigga’s voice echoes in the cold, bright hallway. “Oops,” she says, cheeks flushing pink. “I’m sorry.” She hurries up to Loki, Thor in tow. “Oh, sweetie,” she says, enveloping him in a huge hug. “My poor baby.”

“Moooom,” Loki protests. He wriggles. It’s entirely possible he’s never been quite this happy to see her, but that doesn’t mean he has to admit it. “Dad’s- he’s better now.”

He can’t shake the image of his father dropping to the floor and lying there, unmoving. He shudders.

~

“What were you guys doing when- when whatever this was happened,” his mom asks later, when she and Loki and Thor are standing outside and taking a break from the artificially frigid indoor air. Odin has been wheeled off to have a CT scan, now that his heart doesn’t seem to be the cause of the problem, and they’ve been left to their own devices.

The parking lot needs a good rain. Loki scuffs at a ratty old cigarette butt, just a dirty filter and a couple of ragged scraps of paper. “We were just talking,” he tells her. “We were talking and he fell. Collapsed, more like.” He swallows and twists to look at the ambulance that’s just pulling in. Anything to avoid having to make eye contact. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Well, I’m just grateful you were there,” Frigga exclaims, and Loki feels utterly guilty.

~

Thor gets him alone a little later while their mother is busy filling out paperwork somewhere upfront, out in reception maybe. His brother hugs him, too, but something about it seems perfunctory. Forced. Not the way they normally embrace at all, even when they’re just being _brotherly_. When Thor pushes him to arms’ length and holds him there, eyes narrowed, Loki feels a sharp jolt of fear. “You were acting weird at Fandral’s,” his brother starts in. “And you know it. Don’t think you can pull the same crap with me as you do with mom.” Thor jostles him. There isn’t anything soft or loving in his brother’s demeanor, not anymore. “So, tell me… ,” Thor demands, “what exactly _were_ you and dad talking about?”

“Just stuff,” Loki lies, shrugging out of his brother’s grip. Now that they’re back indoors he can feel himself starting to shake again. Hopefully Thor will blame it on the temperature. “It was pretty much nothing in particular.”

His brother sets both hands on Loki’s shoulders and ducks down to look him straight in the eye. “What’s going on,” Thor asks, shaking Loki a little with each word. There’s a nasty edge to his brother’s voice. “I think you’re ly-.”

“Okay,” Frigga says. She’s reappeared practically out of nowhere. “They’re going to keep your dad overnight, just to give him some time to recuperate out of the heat and to make sure nothing else happens. We should go say goodbye, and then I’ll get the three of us home. We can pick up pizza.” She stops, frowning, to look from Loki to Thor and back again. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” Loki starts.

Thor cuts him off. “Of course not. We were _just talking_.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frigga talks with Loki.

Frigga gives her boys time to calm down. Goodness knows, they need it.

And not together, either, not after she'd seen the way Loki flinched away from Thor as they walked ahead of her to the car. From her vantage point Thor had just been reaching over to try and help his brother with the stack of hot, greasy boxes - pizza, wings, breadsticks with parmesan, and some of those sweetened dough strips that are a lot better suited to ravenous teenagers than they are to middle-aged moms who would really prefer to be a little less _curvy_ \- but her barely-youngest had jerked away as though Thor’s fingers had burned him.

She doesn't know what's going on between the two of them. Whatever it might be, she isn't taking any chances. Not the way this day has gone.

Frigga puts Loki and his giant, hot lapful of food right upfront, where she can see him. She herds Thor around to the driver's side and shoos him into the backseat.

Nobody talks on the ride home. That’s okay.

They can use a little silence.

~

Thor eats enough for three people.

Loki complains that he doesn't feel well but then goes on to pick and grouse and fuss his way through three pieces of pizza, four breadsticks, and half a dozen wings.

Afterwards Frigga has Loki clear the table and take out the garbage, and then saddles Thor with washing their greasy dishes. Not just the ones from dinner, either… everything (including the mess the twins had left in the sink earlier, somewhere between crawling out of bed late that morning and running out to Fandral's party).

Or wherever they went, now that she thinks about it.

There's actually surprisingly little whining. Clearly her children need something to do. Structure, solid and predictable, just when the natural order of things has failed them.

She calls Loki aside while Thor is busy scrubbing. "Come sit on the porch with me," she doesn’t really ask him. That is, she says it nicely enough but has no intention of taking anything but yes for an answer. Frigga knows this has the potential to be awfully unpleasant, for both of them. Still, putting it off has clearly not done anyone here any favors.

It’s time. It’s _past_ time.

As she holds the door open for him, Loki trudges past her. He has his hands shoved way down in the pockets of his trunks. When she pats the seat next to her, though, he does sit. Or, more accurately, he _flops_... with his butt on the very edge of the cushion and his legs splayed wide.

One of his knees rests against her shin. His leg is dusted with soft hair, barely visible even though the sun's just starting to set. He's always been so delicate-looking, more now than ever against Thor's solid, golden-haired frame.

She knows, inside, he pretends to be steely.

They all do.

"Look," Frigga says. There's really no good way to do this. "Your dad told me what happened, and I'm so sorry,"

"He's not my dad," Loki says flatly as she tries to explain that the two of them - herself, Odin - owe him something better.

"We didn't give birth to you, no," she agrees softly. His eyes are full of tears. "But I beg to differ with you… you _are_ our son. We love you just as much as we love your brother. Thor," she clarifies, because she doesn't yet know how much Loki has learned about his birth family.

Loki snuffles. "Then why did you lie to me?" She can feel him bracing himself. Even in this heat he has one arm wrapped tight around his own ribs.

"I don't have a good reason," she says. "We didn't want you to feel different, I guess. And when that didn't work out the way we'd always hoped, we-." She stops to take a deep breath. "We couldn't find the right time to tell you. We were afraid, your father and I. Everything we could think of just seemed like it would make things worse for you."

Loki swallows loudly. "I hate you," he whispers. "Both of you."

Frigga shuts her eyes. What he’s saying hurts to hear, it does, but Loki’s body language doesn't really fit his words and it's her job to tough this out anyway.

"I'm sorry," she tells him again, rather than defending her actions or making excuses. She can feel sorry for herself in private later, once she knows Loki is okay. "I love you very, very much and I know Odin does, too."

Loki huffs. "Right," he says sharply. "I almost killed him a few hours ago. And maybe I even _wanted_ to. I'm sure he practically freaking _worships_ me."

"Sweetie," she corrects softly, "the doctors think it was just heat exhaustion." Combined with stress, sure, but even that wasn't really _Loki's_ doing. “You dad’s fainting, I mean. He’d been doing too much, without drinking enough water. And Loki?” She pauses and waits for him to look up before continuing. “Neither if us blames you for being angry."

"Thor does, though," Loki insists. He glares at her. His eyes are red-rimmed and puffy. He looks sick and sad and badly in need of a hug, but it might still be too soon. Frigga’s afraid of what will happen if she tries to touch him.

"I do need to talk to your brother later," she admits. "All of this affects him, too, even if it’s a bit differently.” She tries to catch Loki’s eye again but he twists away. “If you can,” she suggests, “and I know you may not be able to… try not to be too quick to think badly of him."

“But why would you tell him and not- not me,” he asks. He’s got both arms wrapped around himself now, in sad mockery of a hug. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, Loki,” she says. “No one told him. He overheard me talking on the phone, when I was getting a copy of your birth certificate. I thought I had covered my slip,” she adds, “but I apparently didn’t give Thor enough credit. I didn’t give _either_ of you enough credit, really.” She turns a little and angles herself towards him. “Come here,” she suggests.

“Ugh,” he groans. “Gross. No. It’s too hot.”

But he settles in against her front regardless, warm and sticky and smelling of sweat and garlic. Even better, he lets her cuddle him close without further protest.

“Your birth mother wasn’t well,” Frigga tells him quietly. This is exactly the way she used to tell him stories when he was small, except he’s tall and lanky now and there’s nothing imaginary about this particular tale. “She and your birth father fought constantly. They were in the process of trying to split up their holdings when you were born.” She gives Loki a squeeze. “They couldn’t even stop fighting long enough for your delivery. Everyone in the birthing unit was horrified. And then when you were born just a few minutes after our own baby son, we got the crazy idea – which might just be the best thing we ever did, in hindsight – to offer to take you off their hands.” She kisses his hair. “Believe it or not, we actually got up the nerve to suggest it.”

Loki shivers. “And they threw me away, just like that? Like a little bag of garbage? Before I was even cleaned up and put in the nursery?”

“Oh, no,” Frigga assures him. “It was nothing like that. They laughed in our faces, basically. A few weeks later Farbauti – your birth mother - left the US and went home to be with her own family, taking you along with her. Laufey put the farm on the market. Your father and I tried to set aside our dreams of raising the two of you as twins. It wasn’t easy,” she says, “and we were terribly sad about it. But then something went wrong.” They’d never really known what, exactly. “Her family called us from Norway and asked if we were still interested in taking you in. Of course, we were; it was a dream come true. We called our lawyer and were on a plane to Europe that same evening.”

“The flight,” Loki says into her shoulder. “The one we took as tiny babies.”

“Exactly,” she agrees. They both hum.

~

They talk quietly for a few more minutes. She explains as much as she can without giving in and badmouthing Loki’s birth parents – she has strong opinions about them, and not in a good way, but she owes it to her sons (both of them) to be neutral and objective – and then rocks Loki a little as he cries and cries.

He comes inside with her and sits quietly in front of the TV, a bag of frozen peas on his face, as she talks in turn to Thor.

All in all, it goes better than she expected. Maybe that’s because it has to.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adjusting isn't easy.

Odin comes home after one night's observation. He’s under strict orders to check back with his regular doctor the following week. Until then, he's out of work. Frigga probably doesn't have to tell the boys to keep an eye on him. She does anyway, just because it makes her feel better.

It's too hot to be cooped up inside. Odin wants to check his emails and putter around in the office, but Loki doesn't want him out of sight. The twins are his sons; there's plenty of stubbornness to go around. It isn't until both Thor and Loki threaten to call their mother on him that Odin finally capitulates.

He sits out on the porch in the shade, reading a book, and lets his boys take turns hanging out with him. As the sun climbs high in the sky and the temperature inches up, Loki fills a big pitcher with mostly ice and just a little water to make sure he always has something cold to drink. Odin smiles when he sees all the neat round lemon slices. "Thanks, kiddo," he tells Loki. "That was nice of you."

Loki shrugs.

Things aren't okay, then.

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner," Odin offers, without waiting for Loki to say something. "I should have listened to your mother." This really isn't how it should have happened. It's certainly not what he ever pictured, when he let himself imagine _the big reveal_ at all.

Which, applying the benefit of 20/20 hindsight, Odin can now see he didn’t do anywhere near often enough.

He tries his best to make small talk, just to keep his son engaged. Loki plays along, but barely. Odin's more worried about his youngest than he is about himself, really.

As the morning wears on Thor hovers, conspicuously, which clearly isn't thrilling his brother. When it's his _dad-sitting shift_ , Odin asks about it. "I- what it- the last time you were alone with Loki," Thor struggles to explain, "look what happened."

_What happened is... I scared the shit out of your brother_ , Odin thinks. "That wasn't his fault, you know," he tells his eldest. "You _do_ know that, right?"

Thor takes a seat at the porch floor's edge, with one leg pulled up close to his chest and the other one dangling. "I guess," Thor says, once he's gotten himself settled.

Odin can hear the faint sandpapery scuff of Thor’s sandal toe in dragging in the dirt. He frowns at the side-back of his son's head. The whole thing has been upsetting news for all of them; he knows that. Nothing can fix it, either. It’s just not that kind of thing. He sighs. "What are you thinking," he asks eventually.

"I don't know _what_ to think," Thor admits. "I feel awful for Loki, I mean. But his real parents- they were bad people, right? What if he's like them? What if he's bad too? Where does that leave us?"

Odin winces. They're solidly in _Frigga Territory_ again, but his wife is at work and will be for hours. "Loki's birth parents," he says carefully, because that's the terminology he and Frigga have agreed to use, "actually weren't bad people, as far as I know." Thor turns a little, enough to frown up at him. "They ran into hard times and weren't able to cope with what befell them," he explains. "That can happen to anyone. We're lucky, really."

"Funny," Loki says. He's snuck up on the two of them somehow; they both jump. "I don't _feel_ lucky."

Thor splutters.

"I know you don't like me anymore," Loki tells his brother. Odin's heart breaks a little. "I don't blame you. I don't like me either."

Odin clears his throat. "No one doesn't li-," he starts.

Loki cuts him off. "Don't," he warns. "Just don't. I'll get out of your hair so the two of you can keep on talking about me."

“What makes you think-,” Thor starts.

"Stop," Odin says. "Both of you, please." Loki’s eyes narrow, but he does stay put. "We need to talk, all of us. Together,” Odin tells the two of them. “We're a family, and we need to support each other like one."

~

They do talk, finally. The conversation starts out rough and awkward but gets easier as they go. Before they know it the rest of the morning is long gone, along with the better part of the afternoon. They haven't eaten lunch. They've drunk the entire pitcher of water, plus a refill from the hose. Thor is laughing again, though, and even Loki seems a little less brittle. Anything they've given up to get here is more than worth it.

They have (far too many) cookies for (a very late) lunch, since Frigga's not there to catch them. All three of them end up chocolate-smeared and a little jittery.

The chores don't get done. Odin doesn't care. Tomorrow is another day.

~

"I'm worried about Loki," he tells Frigga that night after everyone has gone to bed. "He's really down on himself. More than I've seen before. And I'm not sure," he goes on, feeling rather bad about ratting Thor out but knowing it's his duty as a parent just the same, "his brother is going to be much help here."

Frigga frowns. She rolls over, propping herself up on one elbow. "What do you mean?"

"It sounds like Thor blames him for what happened," he tells her. "And he thinks Loki might be... a bad seed, I guess you could call it."

"Ugh," Frigga groans. "We'll have to keep a better eye out for trouble."

Odin nods solemnly. There isn't much else they _can_ do. It's not like they have any real control over what their sons think. Most of the time that's a good thing, even.

Frigga flops down onto her back with a long, loud sigh. "I wish I knew how to help them."

He sighs. "Trust me," he says, "we both do."

~

A week later Odin gets a clean enough bill of health. He's cleared back to work, and given the paperwork he needs to salvage their upcoming trip to Europe. "You do need to learn to take it a little easier, though," his doctor reminds him. "Your family needs you."

"My son just found out he's adopted," Odin blurts out. He hadn't really meant to bring it up here. "It didn't go well, to put it mildly."

"Your boys are how old," his doctor asks. "Sixteen, no?"

"Fifteen," Odin corrects. "It's too late to be breaking the news to them, for sure. We never should have waited."

He doesn't tell his doctor he also can't decide if his sons have gotten too close, or if he wishes they were still as close as ever.

~

Loki buys three travel magazines the next time he needs to go into town, picking them up from the gas station/mini-mart near the library. He brings them home as a peace offering and leaves them on the lower bunk for his brother.

The first night, Thor stubbornly ignores both gift and giver. By the second night, curiosity wins out and his brother crawls into bed with the small light that sits on the dresser still burning. Loki curls up in the top bunk and listens to the soft crinkle of pages turning.

A couple of nights later, Thor stops in the middle of reading and gasps a little. "Did you see these," he asks, holding the magazine up for Loki to examine. It's the first thing he's said in private since they'd gotten home from the hospital, and Loki's stomach does a little somersault. "Of Rome,” Thor explains. “They're so beautiful."

Loki clears his throat. "No," he says, and it's the truth. "I saved them all for you."


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vacation is a good reason (excuse?) for sheathing swords.

Once they’ve cleared the air things are a little better. A lot better, as long as you don’t inspect anything too closely. And with Europe practically on top of them now, no one really has the time for close inspection.

Or maybe it’s more like sweeping everything under the rug.

Maybe.

Whatever it is, preparation trumps contemplation this time around.

~

Loki and Thor are practically beside themselves with nervous energy when they finally board the regional jet that's going to take them to New York City. Everyone agrees - even Frigga; even _Odin_ , for whom this is anything but novel - that it's weird to think this same exact time of day will be almost dinnertime tomorrow. The people at their destination are already planning their meals and their weekend evenings. Thor, who hasn't been getting as much rest as he should recently, sleeps easily on the plane. Loki, at least as tired but (sitting in the window seat and) inherently more curious, spends the whole flight pressed awkwardly against the curve of the plane watching as first scenery and then clouds drift by. It’s delightful.

Every now and then he elbows his brother awake to point out an especially fascinating cloud formation. Most of the time, though, he just lets Thor drool against his side. Frigga is directly behind him, flipping idly through a stack of magazines; he can always catch her attention when there's something really worth seeing out there. Every now and then she taps his shoulder through the little gap between his seat and the plastic, to do much the same. She’s the one who spots the other plane off in the distance.

Everything is beautiful and fascinating.

As the miles unwind behind them it's hard to remember he and the rest of his erstwhile family aren't related. Which is good, because Loki has vowed (to himself; he's not stupid enough to make it public) to set everything aside for now and enjoy this trip like the vacation of a lifetime it will doubtless be.

Frigga passes him one of her magazines, its pages folded open to a lushly photographed article about Pompeii. He twists as much as he can (without dislodging Thor completely) and smiles over the headrest at her, but he can't take his eyes off the clouds long enough to read what she’s shared. There's always the airport later.

~

It's like something right out of a movie... the New York City skyline at a distance, and then the city itself spread out beneath their plane to glitter in the sun. Loki jostles his brother awake for real when they're still a few minutes out and together - with Loki squished under Thor's weight as his brother strains to get close to the window, but that’s okay; he wants to share this, and it’s kind of cozy anyway - they ooh and ahh as they watch Manhattan passing far below them.

Loki keeps watching as they continue east and begin to descend, over the little rows of houses and the salt marsh and the storage containers out by the airport - over the pleasure boats and their white wakes in the grey water - but Thor quickly gets bored and cramped and collapses back into his own seat.

After the relentless heat of summer and the recent warmth of his brother's body, Loki equally quickly finds the air inside the plane is too cold. Even with a blanket he somehow can’t stop shivering. He isn’t even sure what - the cold or- or nerves – is getting to him. Both things, maybe.

~

They have hours to kill until their transatlantic flight. Thor wants to roam the international terminal - he always hates being cooped up and a tiny plane seat definitely more than qualifies - but Loki's ears won't pop and his head is pounding. He's tired and overwhelmed already and he really just wants to hole up somewhere and maybe cry. Plus, there are actual wild birds - live ones, curious little sparrows that will get within a couple of inches of your hand - in the domed seating area in the center of the food court. All in all, he won’t be moving from his plastic chair anytime soon.

Not for Thor, not for anyone.

Frigga reminds Odin that he's supposed to be getting more exercise and sends two of her three menfolk packing. "Bring us back more to read," she tells them, "and chocolate. Good chocolate."

She and Loki settle in with their mountain of luggage - it's still too early to check the bags in - and watch the birds. She digs into her bag and pulls out something for his ears and sinuses, which he accepts gratefully and gulps down with a large mouthful of unpleasantly warm water.

He's not sure the stuff she gave him helps, but it does make him pleasantly drowsy.

~

It feels like he shuts his eyes for a second. If that long… one slow blink, essentially.

When he opens them, though, Thor and Odin have returned. They’re sitting opposite and talking quietly with Frigga as Loki curls against his mother like an overgrown toddler. When he blinks sleepily and yawns, they tumble over themselves to ask him if he's feeling any better. He is, actually, although he's groggy and cotton-mouthed and horribly thirsty.

When he says as much, they each look so relieved that he can't even pretend they don't care.

~

The long flight to Paris is much less pleasant than the one to New York. The two of them know the drill - where they're going it's late evening, and they need to make themselves pretend the same - but it's still light outside and even after their parents let them have a glass each of wine (and diphenhydramine) with their early airplane dinner Loki can't get (back) to sleep.

It's even worse once they fly far ahead enough in time that it's nighttime outside. There's nothing to look at - the plane is dimmer than it was earlier, but certainly not dark enough to see stars outside - and it feels like everyone around him is snoring. Loki is too dazed (and a little claustrophobic, maybe... he's not usually motion-sick, but there are three seats in this section and there's a snoring stranger on the far side of Thor so he’s kind of trapped here) to watch the in-flight movie but too tense to really sleep. It isn't until he gropes for Thor's hand under the thin blanket - and hears his brother hum happily as he laces their fingers together - that Loki can even manage a catnap or two.

~

When he blinks awake the last time, the lights are back up and people are stirring. Thor is smiling at him and waving their tiny bag of toiletries. "Toothbrush," his brother whispers.

_Oh, yes, please._

They crowd together in the tiny bathroom, brushing their teeth with water from their bottles and doing what they can - which isn't nearly enough - to wash their shiny faces and smelly armpits. There isn't any room to move at all, not without jostling each other.

Likewise, with two of them crammed in the tiny space, there isn’t any room to use the toilet itself without sitting on it. Loki's never been kissed, minty-fresh and kind of nippy, while he's trying to balance on a tiny toilet and pee before. It's really not helpful.

When it's his brother's turn, though, he's careful to (thoroughly) return the favor.

Someone knocks on the door and they both jump. "Just a second," Thor calls, and then they dissolve in a fit of giggles.

They hurry back to their seats, cleaner but flushed and shifty-eyed and guilty, just in time for breakfast.

"Morning," Frigga tells them. She looks mussed and soft and- tired, probably. Odin is still sleeping.

Loki nods in reply. He’s careful not to make eye contact with his mother as he rearranges his blankets – he’s collected some, somehow, more than his whole row should have - and sits back down. 

He shuts his eyes again, thinking this time about how his mouth feels all hot and puffy and his tongue still tastes of _Thor_.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When in Rome...

They go through EU Customs (watching the boys is entertaining; they’re visibly excited to have stamps in their brand new passports) in Paris Charles de Gaulle airport and then reconvene to say their goodbyes. Odin will be taking the train down to Montpellier for four days of agricultural presentations and workshops; the rest of them are heading off on vacation and will be going back through airport security to catch their connecting flight to Rome.

Frigga can’t help but notice she’s not the only one who hugs Odin just a little bit longer than normal. He and Thor exchange both a shoulder-slapping man hug and then an unplanned-looking squeeze. The big surprise is Loki, though; he clings to Odin like they may never see one another again. “You two take good care of your mother, you hear,” Odin orders the boys, grunting a little as he slings his garment bag strap up over his head and across his chest. “I expect to get her back better than I left her.”

Everyone laughs. Both Thor and Loki look a little shell-shocked, though, and Frigga’s glad for the distraction the long waiting line snaking through security affords.

It’s nice not to be in a rush. Frigga lets the boys take the lead. Loki’s spoken French is passable. Thor’s really isn’t, but his good looks and cheery smile seem to work as well here as they always do – always have - at home. As the three of them settle into yet another row of airplane seats, Frigga hands her boys blankets and tells them they can try for another quick nap. They’re not here on business; whatever they do to best manage their jet lag really isn’t going to matter to anyone. They both smile sweetly back at her. Thor is already yawning. Loki is bright-eyed and jiggling, though; she can tell he’s going to spend the entire trip squished up against his window yet again.

~

Whatever happens next – wherever their lives lead them – Frigga knows they will never have a second chance to do this. Even if they come back to Europe as a family someday, it won’t be their first time and her sons won’t be the amazing little sponges they are today.

She’s been telling herself this for months now, ever since Odin’d first suggested the three of them join him on this venture. He doesn’t care that she’s booked them into a ridiculously indulgent hotel – the Inn at the Spanish Steps, where she’s wanted to stay since she was the twins’ age herself (and with not just one room but two; they can’t very well sleep three to a bed, and she’s not about to be crammed on the sleeper sofa while the twins laze about in the bed) – but she still feels like she ought to be justifying her splurge somehow.

Not that they can’t afford it; they can. It just feels- sinful, especially after a lifetime on the farm.

Guilt aside, she keeps reminding herself, she always wants to give her boys the best of everything (what parent doesn’t?) and this is one time she can.

Once they’ve checked in, though, any lingering doubts about her choices vanish. The boys stand in the lobby gawking in open-mouthed amazement. They do the same in her room, and in their own (which is just two doors away; far enough to be private and feel grown-up, but at the same time comfortably close in case anything at all goes awry). By the time they all change into fresh clothes and make it up to take a quick peek at the famous rooftop bar and eatery, Loki and Thor are a finally a little closer to composed. Still, Frigga knows, it’s so worth the money.

The view is astounding. Almost everything they want to see is in easy walking distance. And if they don’t feel like going far afield for dinner, the food at most of the restaurants close by is reportedly anywhere from very good to divine.

“It’s perfect,” she tells Odin when he calls to let her know he’s checked into his own (rather less fabulous-sounding; still, it’s paid by his employer, and it got them all here) venue. “They love it. I love it,” she adds, and it’s enough of an afterthought that her husband laughs.

“Good job,” he tells her. “And be sure to have fun. I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you,” she reminds him. She’s never going to not say it again, not after everything that’s happened recently. “We all do.”

~

“Now _this_ is a bathroom,” Loki exclaims, standing in the doorway and admiring the endless expanse of gleaming black marble. The idea of having their own room, just like they do at home, had sounded nothing but appealing back when their mother’d suggested it. Now that they’re all alone in what is obviously intended to be a splendidly romantic setting, though, he feels awkward and more than a little nervous.

Thor comes up behind him and peers around his shoulder. “Oh, yeah. This is really nice.” His brother sounds kind of anxious, too.

Loki pushes past Thor – gently, not angrily – and heads out to the narrow balcony. His brother follows, slowly. They’re both still taking things in. There’s an awful lot to absorb.

“I’m glad we’re here,” Loki says as Thor joins him outside. They lean on the railing and gaze out across the landscape. “This looks just like a postcard,” he adds, pointing at the building directly across from them. “And this, and this.” Everywhere he looks there’s a beautiful fountain or an historic building. “I can’t believe the Romans stood here.”

“They didn’t stand exactly here,” Thor teases. “This building is just a leeeetle bit too new for that.”

Loki elbows his brother playfully, laughing. “You know what I mean.”

Thor laughs in return. “I do.”

~

They all nap in the (local time) afternoon. Doing so is supposed to be bad for jet lag, they take turns reminding one another, but they have nowhere to be in the morning and the three of them collectively decide they don’t care. Loki himself is confident he’ll be plenty exhausted again at actual bedtime regardless.

~

Dinner is every bit as wonderful as their rooms have turned out to be. Frigga is glad she indulged their wishes when it came to napping; the three of them are comfortably awake and able to eat without hurrying. She lets her boys have wine with dinner. “Just a glass,” she stresses, “and don’t think you’re going to away with this at home.”

They smile at her over their antipasti, and then at each other.

Somehow, by the end of the meal, they’ve managed to sneak a second glass and are snickering and yawning.

_It’s a good thing,_ she thinks, watching them fondly, _that your father isn’t here to catch you… or me_.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing beats a nice bed.

_Tired but not sleepy._

Loki knows already, only a day into it, that this will be the (title to the) theme song of their European vacation.

~

He and Thor walk their mother back to the Inn, each of them with an arm looped through one of hers. They’re taking their duties seriously… as seriously as they can under the circumstances, anyway. There’s probably a bit more laughing and stumbling than there really should be.

Once they’re safely back upstairs the three of them spend a few minutes standing together on Frigga’s balcony (which is arguably even smaller than their own but has the better view), marveling at how beautiful this part of Rome is at night. Thor catches a second wind and wants to go exploring. As much as he’s normally the daring one Loki is relieved when Frigga nixes the idea… he’s heard far too many stories about what can happen to tourists out alone. The idea of becoming a statistic here in Italy is much less appealing somehow than taking (stupid, possibly) risks at home.

At home he’s in control of his situation, or at least he can pretend to be. Here he’ll end up stuck in the plot of some real-life horror movie and-.

No one who knows Loki would ever dream of denying that he has a vivid, vivid imagination.

“Loki?”

“Mm?”

Both Thor and his mother are peering at him closely. Their foreheads are creased into identical, worried-looking frowns. “What,” he says, more clearly this time. “Is something wrong?”

Frigga and Thor exchange meaningful looks. “We were just talking about the fountain,” Thor starts, pointing down the street a few buildings, “and we lost you. You know, to _la-la land_.”

Loki makes a face. “My mind wandered,” he says. “I’m tired.”

“Me too,” his brother agrees. “But not sleepy,” they say in stereo.

Their mother laughs. “Don’t let your old mother keep you awake, then. Go to bed. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

She reminds them to set their alarm; they have a full day ahead of them, with a lot of things to do and see, and for a lot of reasons – not the least of which being the crowds… and the heat – they’ve already agreed it’s best to get underway early. “7:30,” she makes them promise. They’re to be dressed to go, too: “Show up to breakfast in your PJs,” she stresses as they groan (Thor) and pout (Loki), “and you’ll be touring the Vatican dressed just that way. And don’t try me,” she warns them as they head for her door. She’s laughing, sure, but after all these years they know better than to push their luck with her.

~

It’s much cooler now that it’s nighttime.

Their room is even prettier after dark. It’s all deep, rich colors and opulent finishes and slick satin bedding. The two of them are still a little buzzed (not that either would be uncool enough to admit it), and being alone together in such luxury leaves them a little overwhelmed. Loki once again feels nervous; even Thor is unusually subdued.

In the bathroom they pull their shirts off over their heads and wash up together, brushing their teeth and splashing their faces just like they do at home. When Thor announces he needs to spend some quality time on the toilet, though, Loki backpedals out into the room proper without any argument. He could undoubtedly use a little alone time too.

~

Loki turns the covers down and slides his palms back and forth over the sheets. _Mm_. The bed is simply too nice for pajamas. It’s nothing at all like even their fanciest cotton and linen sheets at home. He sheds the rest of his clothes (in a neatish heap on one of the armchairs) and dives in, burrowing deep into the perfect bedding.

When he first hops into bed it’s shockingly cool. Fortunately it doesn’t take long to warm to body temperature. Loki scoots his naked self happily to and fro until he’s made a comfortable nest out of the mountain of sheets and blankets and then lies quietly – with only his eyes and the top of his head uncovered – and stares up at the ornamented ceiling.

_This must have been what it was like to be king_ , he thinks.

Or maybe not. Whatever; he likes it.

~

Thor wanders back out of the bathroom a few minutes later, after Loki has warmed his nest exactly to his liking but before he’s really started to drift most of the way off to sleep. 

Loki watches, grinning, as his brother – proudly sporting nothing but underpants, one of the colorful new pairs Frigga had made them both bring along, in case they had to go to the hospital - stands at the foot of the bed and looks down at him in mock disgust.

“You sure took your half out of the middle, didn’t you,” Thor kids, reaching out to grab Loki’s ankle through the fluffy duvet. “Shove over.”

“Nuh uh,” Loki says, fighting not to giggle. The bed is easily three times the size of the twin they sometimes share – for reading, if not sleeping – back home. There’s ample space for him to make himself really, really comfortable _and_ still leave plenty of room for his brother. He snakes one hand out from under the blanket and pats the bed next to himself. “You can lie here.”

“Maybe I want to lie _here_ instead,” Thor tells Loki as he climbs up onto the bed and tugs at the bedclothes. “Where it’s already nice and cozy.”

They wrestle for the covers, and the pillows, and the warm indentation where Loki had been lying right up until his brother’d come along and unceremoniously rolled him away. The sheets are slick and the combination of wine and exhaustion has rendered Loki slow and a little uncoordinated; it’s not nearly as long as it should be before Thor has him pinned to the mattress. He’s flat on his back again, squealing and wriggling.

“Are you going to move over,” his brother asks, “or do I have to make you?”

Loki laughs so hard he chokes on his own saliva, even though it really can’t be _that_ funny. He shifts suddenly and gets an ankle loose, but even with a knee up he can’t get the leverage to flip them over. His foot slips on the satin sheet and goes flying.

Thro loses his balance and comes crashing down on Loki with most of his weight. For several seconds neither of them can breathe. “Shit,” Thor huffs out once he can finally talk again. “Are you okay?” He looks genuinely concerned for about three seconds, so much so that Loki is _almost_ set to slide over and let him lie where he wants to… but then he can’t keep a straight face and starts laughing.

“Oh, right, like you _care_ ,” Loki squawks. “You’re just trying to get me out of the way.”

“I’m bigger than you,” his brother reminds him. Thor still has both Loki’s wrists pinned and is sitting heavily on his thighs. “What exactly are you going to do about it?”

“I’ll scream until mom hears us,” Loki threatens. He sucks in a big lungful of air in preparation. “Ah-!”

“Oh no you don’t,” Thor says. Both his hands are in use; he hesitates only briefly before ducking down to silence Loki with a hot, wet kiss.

The whole thing comes as such a shock that, at first, Loki can’t even muster the composure to struggle.

It isn’t even ten seconds later that he completely stops trying.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The start of a vacation is always full of promise. And, er, things.

For the longest time they just kiss and kiss.

They're alone. Together. In a glorious bed, with a door that locks and the closest parent two hotel rooms away. Neither one of them is drunk, exactly - not on the wine, at least; not with all that delicious food - but they're warm and giggly and finally able to enjoy some time together.

They make out until they're both gasping for breath and then start right back in and do it some more.

The two of them roll over and over across the bed, slowly, taking turns running their hands over warm skin and raking their fingers into tangled hair.

Neither of them is man enough to brave tugging Thor's undershorts down, although Loki's fingers trail lightly across his brother's front far too many times to pass off as accidental.

Thor traces the slope of Loki's hips and slides warm hands up and down his ribs, but doesn't move to reach between their bellies either.

They quickly find they do best when they're both mostly on their sides, crushed together with hungry mouths and intertwined legs. That way, they can covertly rut against one another and still manage to pretend it isn't happening. Eventually they stop even trying to roll around and simply stay where they are, kissing open-mouthed and sloppy. It doesn’t take any time at all to lose themselves in how very, very good even just rubbing their bodies together feels.

Loki breaks free of Thor's clutches and mouths wetly along his brother's jaw. When Thor utterly fails to stifle a moan, Loki feels a little bolder… he finally dares to lick and nip his way down his brother's neck and chest.

He brushes across Thor's hard little nipple without even meaning to - it's mostly dark in their room; his eyes are closed anyway - and his brother jumps.

The sudden movement jostles them both. Thor's fingers slip off the crest of Loki’s hip and drop towards the mattress, only to hook Loki’s penis on their way by.

"Ah," Loki exclaims. Thor jerks his hand away as though he's been bitten.

None of that _spoils the moment_ , exactly, but for a good half a minute neither one of them can stop laughing.

"This is a lot harder than it looks online," Thor complains, breathless and hoarse.

"Why thank you," Loki quips. "Yours is nice too."

Thor gives him a playful shove. Pushing leads to wrestling leads to going at it again even hotter and rougher than before. When they finally break things off again they're both shaking.

"We should call it quits," Loki tells his brother.

Thor sighs. "Yeah, I s'pose. I mean, I know this is wrong and we shouldn-," he says, cutting off abruptly when Loki covers his mouth with a warm palm.

"Not that," Loki says. "These sheets. If we make a mess the maid will tell mom."

"Oh, crap," Thor exclaims into his brother’s hand. They both start laughing again. "You're the one who took off _everything_ ," he admonishes. He kisses Loki's fingers.

Loki pinches the tip of Thor's nose lightly. "How was I supposed to know you were going to be all over me," he protests. " _I_ was just enjoying the bed."

Thor sobers. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'll stop. I promise."

"No," Loki says firmly. He steers Thor by the chin, pulling his brother in for another lingering kiss. "Never."

~

They’re forced to drag themselves up and out of bed way too soon. The two of them take turns quickly rinsing clean in the shower; there isn't nearly enough time to try _sharing_ , not today. Plus, in the golden light of morning, they're both a little too shy for that anyway.

Thor shaves, because he can. Loki spends a long moment inspecting a faint could-almost-be-a-hickey Thor doesn't really remember giving him.

~

When they stumble up to breakfast, in actual clothes and only three minutes later than ordered, they blame their bleary eyes and puffy faces on jet lag. Loki credits his little scarf to fashion.

"You're going to be way too hot in that," Frigga warns him while Thor does his best not to crack a smile.

Loki shrugs. "I can always shove it in my pocket," he assures her. "Or in that gigantic man-eating purse you're lugging around."

"Yeah, mom," Thor chimes in, oh-so-grateful for even the most ridiculous distraction. "What do you _have_ in there? You do know we've grown out of diapers, right?"

There are so, so many things Frigga could say. Ultimately, she just doesn’t. They’ll doubtless give her plenty of opportunity to lecture them later on. They always do, after all.

~

The three of them spend the better part of the morning exploring this end of the old city on foot. The streets around the Inn are narrow and winding, full of fountains and shops and lots of good people-watching. The boys take turns snapping pictures of one another and posing for selfies with Frigga’s phone.

She gives them each a few coins to toss over their shoulders into Trevi fountain. Her sons need no persuading; both of them clearly want to return to Rome. And who wouldn’t? It’s beautiful here, and really no hotter than it’s been most of the summer at home.

Thor and Loki pose in front of the marble fountain for her, grinning broadly, with Thor’s arm slung around Loki’s neck and Loki’s head resting against his brother’s shoulder. Sure, she’s biased, but they’re too beautiful to be written off as any old tourists. Loki, especially, fits right in with his tight black jeans and his thin grey t-shirt. They’re both all cheekbones and teeth, their mirrored sunglasses reflecting the building behind her with its lovely, ornate façade. If she didn’t know them they could be anyone – college students, old friends, even lovers – and she can’t shake the feeling that any day now they’ll be gone.

It’s unnerving.

“So,” Frigga says brightly, trying to shake off her troubling mood. “Shall we get ourselves some gelato and then be on our way?”

And then she can’t help but smile. Despite the way the two of them are quickly growing into handsome strangers, they’re still her boys. She hasn’t even finished her question and they’re already headed for the gelato at a pace that falls only _just_ short of running. 

_You know_ , she thinks, _I really like it here_.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putting the _tour_ in _tourist_...

St. Peter's square is lovely, although the entire plaza is crazy busy. Even Frigga can't help but gawk at least a little as they stroll among the kind of sights they never really expected to see in their lifetimes. There isn’t any way around it; they take their places in the endless line. "Why is it a square if it's really a circle," Thor leans in to ask quietly as they stand overlooking its broad expanse from the long flight of steps leading up to the Basilica.

Loki twists left and right in a graceful arc. "Oval," he corrects. "It's not round," he explains when Thor looks at him oddly. "It's _oval_." Loki smirks. "Do you need to go back through your basic shapes, Thory-wory," he needles, "because I'm sure mommy here would be happy to show y- ow!" He doubles over as Thor jabs him in the side, hard. "I can't help it,” he wheezes, “that you _like_ being stupid."

"Boys," Frigga admonishes. " _Try_ to be respectful, will you?"

They do try. They really do. Waiting in line is hot and boring, though, and Loki really needs something to distract him from the steady trickle of sweat down his chest and the roasting misery of the scarf he hasn't dared to loosen. He leans over, face turned away from Frigga's, and mouths “ _maybe tonight I'll let you blow me_ ” against his brother's warm, red ear.

" _Loki_ ," Thor squawks. Behind them Frigga clears her throat.

For the next little while Loki amuses himself by making eyes at his brother and wetting his lips. The line snakes slowly on.

~

Inside the Basilica it's a completely different story. They aren't Catholic and weren't really raised in much of a religious tradition, but that doesn't matter somehow. Not here. They're completely blown away by the endless array of amazing sculptures and paintings, and by the sweeping glory of the setting. So much wealth; so much beauty.

It's especially nice, too, not to be part of a tour. Loki watches the larger groups struggling to keep at least one eye in their leaders - on the little paper-plate placards bobbing overhead - and pities them the loss of any chance to enjoy the experience fully.

The ornate carved, painted ceilings are spectacular. The floors are gorgeous. Even after an hour inside the three of them barely know where to _start_ looking.

"Thanks, mom," Thor tells Frigga as they make their tired way back out into the heat.

Loki nods. He hopes she realizes how much he enjoyed their visit, even if he’s too drained to be properly enthusiastic. "That was wonderful."

Frigga smiles at them. "Thank your father," she reminds them both. "This whole trip was his idea."

~

They're a little on the gross side – they’ve been sweating all day and there’s simply no doubt they’ve both looked and smelled better - to be having dinner out somewhere, but Frigga insists that if they go back to Inn to wash up she will never get them back out into this lovely evening. “We’ve come all this way,” she points out (and she’s right, of course) “to experience Italy and it would be a shame to waste the opportunity. You can laze around at home.”

Loki does have to admit that it's not likely anyone else's day has been cooler. 

The three of them stroll along until they find a nicely rustic-looking place. It’s busy but not insanely so, and the menu sounds good. Best of all, they can dine al fresco. "Grazie," Loki says as their host steers them to a nicely situated corner table. He smiles shyly as the man nods.

~

Frigga orders the three them sparkling water and red table wine and then instructs Thor and Loki to pace themselves a little better this time. She watches as they dutifully take sip after tiny sip. When they compensate by making frighteningly short work of both the cheese and the board of rough country bread with herbed oil, she lets it go.

The day’s sights are still too fresh and overwhelming to discuss, Frigga knows. Instead of trying, she eats (a little less like a pack of ravenous wild dogs, thank you!) in peaceful silence as her sons do much the same.

"Why did you pick _me_ ," Loki asks out of nowhere. Thor bumps the table and slops a little water. He coughs into the crook of his elbow. "Did you want another baby?"

She takes a brief moment to collect herself. "We _had_ always hoped for more than one child," she tells him as smoothly as she can. It's reassuring to see him opening up about the whole topic; at least a little, and she doesn't want to do or say anything that might accidentally shut him back down. "Although we obviously hadn’t planned on twins. But when I saw you that first morning, tucked neatly into your little nursery bassinet, I knew you were the one I wanted." She sets her glass down to squeeze both Loki's hand and Thor's. "You were such a beautiful infant. Both of you were. Like night and day," she tells them, "in the best way possible. Everyone said so."

“Hm.” Loki’s forehead wrinkles. He looks sad and worried. “Are you sorry?”

Thor opens his mouth to say something but Frigga gives him a look. “Loki, honey,” she says softly, “I’ve never been sorry. Never. Not for one single minute.”

Loki hums again. “And what about you,” he asks Thor. Frigga makes a silent plea to whatever might be out there listening. It’s _not_ the right time for teasing, and she can only hope Thor senses that and takes his brother’s pain seriously.

“Of course I’m not sorry,” Thor says. He reaches across the table to take hold of Loki’s other hand and complete the circle. “I can’t imagine life without you.”

Their server brings out a steaming platter of fresh, house-made pasta. The three of them let go of one another to make room as he lays out heavy plates. It’s a welcome distraction, at just the right time. Frigga pours each of them more water and more wine… and they all dig in.

By the time they start on their main course – family-style plates of pork and veal to pass – their collective mood is lighter (if a bit sleepy). Thor wants to talk about the lovely art, and Loki obliges. All Frigga has to do is prod them gently from time to time. She’s always amazed by just how smart and perceptive they are.

~

Thor and Loki fall into bed together as soon as they’re back in their room, the two of them warm and sticky and full. That, and beyond exhausted. Even so, they trade garlicky kisses for the better part of an hour before they simply cannot stop yawning. “Okay,” Loki promises, voice low and sleepy. “Maybe I’ll let you blow me another day.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, you know,” Thor teases. He yawns, yet again. “Sometime when I won’t fall asleep right in the middle of things, I mean.”

“Oh, yes,” Loki says, “Believe me, I’m counting on it.”


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruins for everyone...

The alarm goes off - followed in quick succession by a programmed wake-up call, and then a room-to-room phone call from their mother - obscenely early the next morning. It's still dark. In fact, it’s going to be dark for a while. Loki staggers around their room with his hands over his face; Thor, who is (often, if very) mildly less naturally morning-averse, manages to fall back to sleep on the toilet and actually has to be jostled.

It's the perfect opportunity for a merciless ribbing but Loki is too dead on his own feet to enjoy it.

~

"You can sleep on the train," their mother had told them when she'd made these plans a few weeks back. "We'll grab breakfast along the way. It'll be fine. You'll see."

It hadn't sounded all that unreasonable, not at booking time. They would wash up quickly, get a car service to the station, and be on the first train to Naples (meaning _sound asleep again_ ) before they even knew what hit them. Sure, they would have get up around 4:45 AM... but they would be on vacation, and well rested. Plus, the early train does not take the high-speed express route (it simply gets to Naples more than 40 minutes before the first express-route train by virtue of departing Rome at stupid o’clock) and that would mean two good hours of on-the-train sleeping... and then a nice catnap on the commuter rail from Naples to Pompeii.

Plenty more sleep.

No problem.

As plans go, it's solid enough. Practically airtight. It retrospect it turns out that their mother didn't consider quite _everything_ , though: Even after more than a day in Italy, for starters, the boys are still pretty jet-lagged. They're tired from marching around (and to, and from) Vatican City. Mostly, though, Frigga didn’t allow for all the time they’ve been spending messing around - crawling all over one another any time they're alone - when they could otherwise be (reasonably expected to be) sleeping.

Sure, it's good she's not thinking along those last lines. Anytime, that is, except for just now when they've gotten up at what-the-fuck-o'clock and are trying their best to be functional.

There’s no way their best is going to cut it.

~

"Still having trouble getting to sleep on time," they tell their mother in raspy stereo when she asks them what's wrong. "Jet lag, I guess," Loki adds when pressured. He thinks he may be sick right here in the town car (all over his brother’s feet) when Frigga cocks an eyebrow and looks at the two of them skeptically... and he stupidly overcompensates and allows himself to look far too relieved when she asks "you two aren't drinking in your room, are you?"

"Oh, _no_ , mom," Thor assures her. Loki nods his agreement, with frantic enthusiasm. It's too late, but he knows he has to try anyway.

"Good," she says. "Keep it that way."

"Yes, mom," they promise.

They're screwed; Loki's sure of it.

~

Thor and Frigga sleep easily on the train. Loki is too keyed up, for a wide variety of reasons; by the time he finally manages to settle, the sun is coming over the horizon. He loses his battle to the view.

~

They switch stations in Naples. It's not a short walk - probably close to a mile, if you count all the stairs - and it's all underground, which makes it differently interesting. Thor and Loki try to blend in with the commuters, but their conversational Italian is just this side of abominable. Thor's sunny smile (or bedhead, or sleepy blue-eyed handsomeness) might be the only thing that saves them. Everywhere his brother goes, Loki can’t help but notice, people worship Thor.

How could they not, really?

Frigga reminds them to grab snacks, and lots of bottled water. “Yes, mom,” they tell her yet again.

~

The second leg of their rail journey is louder. The train is pretty much standing room only (although they do find a spot where their mom can sit… she says it isn’t necessary, but both Loki and Thor insist) and it passes through increasingly fascinating – at least if you're Thor and Loki, who aren't used to coastlines or sleeping volcanoes – countryside on its way to Pompeii Scavi. Despite how tired they are, Loki knows, there isn’t going to be any more sleeping.

~

It’s all worth it when they get to the ruins (which are walled, and huge to the point of being a little overwhelming). The three of them dig their ridiculous floppy sun hats out of the mesh sack Loki and Thor have been taking grudging turns carrying (it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world to wear over your shoulder, but people aren’t particularly interested in stealing bags that are clearly just full of water and ugly hats), crack open bottles of water, and push past the street vendors. Finally they make it up to the entrance. By the time Frigga buys each of them a ticket, Loki is vibrating with excitement.

He’s not disappointed.

Inside the city walls, the place is incredible.

And _hot_.

They’re going to broil alive. Loki’s sure of it. They’re early enough that there’s still a little shade, for now, but a dead city with neither roofs nor trees to speak of isn’t going to afford much (any) protection from the noonday sun.

He soon forgets about that, though. There’s just so much – too much – to see.

Thor likes the amphitheatre. They take turns standing at the bottom looking up, and standing in the seats looking down. “People used to watch important speakers here,” Thor tells Loki, “thousands of years ago.”

It’s not quite _thousands_ , plural, but it’s close enough. His brother is so excited that Loki bites his tongue and says nothing.

Personally, he finds he likes the little things best: the bakeries, the wine bars, the market stalls. The narrow streets with their rough cobbles and deep-worn wheel ruts. All of the small details that say _people lived their regular old lives here_. He also likes the penises. Or, rather, he likes the idea of living somewhere where there are penises for street signs.

He doesn’t like the bodies, though. Even when Frigga reminds him they’re skeletons covered in plaster and not actual bodies per se, Loki still doesn’t like them. He can’t even really put a finger on why. The idea of so many people dying awful deaths in such a lovely playground of a place – people who could have saved themselves by leaving with their neighbors, but who simply chose not to - is disturbing. Reading about it is strange; seeing it first-hand, from right in its midst, is surprisingly upsetting.

Loki very, very much wants to take Thor’s hand. Instead, he cuts ahead of his brother and takes hold of Frigga’s. “It’s sad, isn’t it,” she tells him quietly.

“It makes me wish I could _do_ something,” he says.

“Live your lives while you can,” she reminds them both as Thor crowds up behind her. “Because you never know when something’s going to come along and put an end to everything.” Loki squeezes her fingers. It’s the times like this that make it easy to forget he and his family aren’t actually related.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ride back from Pompeii is long and interesting.

On the commuter train back to Naples – they actually do get seats this time, even though they have to crowd together a bit uncomfortably, and it’s a good thing because all three of them are utterly exhausted after a long day spent walking in the heat and sun – Frigga, Loki, and Thor find they are in complete agreement: out of everything they saw today, the baths were the most captivating.

Getting teenagers to agree on something is no small feat. Frigga would probably have conceded to them anyway, just to savor the moment, but there’s really no need. She actually does agree; the baths _were_ interesting, and beautiful.

And covered, which was also nice. By that point even Thor had claimed to be happy to get out of the sun.

Her boys talk quietly, in English this time, about the technology involved. Loki, especially – and it’s not surprising because he loves everything about bathing; from childhood she and Odin used to joke privately about how Loki must have been a lake or river creature in a past life – is fascinated by how advanced the clean-water plumbing must have been. “Not so much because modern-day plumbing is all that impressive,” he tells Thor, “but because- um- just look at everything that came afterwards. Think how many centuries later the area where we live got its own running water! Even now there are a lot of wells… and some outhouses.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “These people had hydraulics. And everything was- timeless, I guess. It’s amazing.”

He’s right. The spigots they saw today, for example, would be at home in a nicer Victorian house. The internal workings might be a bit different (or not… how much can you really do with small valves and water?), but the metalwork would not look the least bit out of place.

On and on Thor and Loki go. Already, Frigga knows, the trip was easily worth several years’ education. Both her sons have come away with an appreciation for history they would never have gotten in all their years of school.

Thor is equally impressed with all the sculpture, and how – along the same lines as Loki’s observations around outhouses – the artistry and methods of the time were lost to so much of the world later on.

They both liked the mosaics. Neither Thor nor Loki seems particularly taken aback by the idea of communal, social bathing, although they do both blush when Frigga asks if they can imagine anything similar near their farm. “No,” she asks, laughing.

Loki turns even redder. “Um. Maybe.”

Thor studiously looks out the window, even though they’re on the side of the train that’s away from the coast (having chosen comfort – sitting! – over scenery this time) and there’s pretty much nothing to see.

Frigga smiles at their reaction. She nicely doesn’t mention the stone penises.

~

Even with the bag of water empty the walk between train stations in Naples seems a lot longer than it did in the morning. Loki is dragging. Thor would let him ride piggyback if their mother wasn’t there. Not that she would necessarily take it wrong (right?), but there isn’t any good reason for risking it. He thinks back to what his mother had said earlier… about living life, because it’s so easily snuffed out… and concludes that she simply can’t have meant it _that way_. At least, he doesn’t think so. He can always talk it over with his brother later. Loki’s guaranteed to be good for a fresh opinion.

The ride back from Naples to Rome is just over an hour – they time it right and are able to catch one of the express trains for the return journey. Thor tries to chat with his mother, but this time it’s not easy; Loki drops quickly off to sleep and curls half into his lap in the process. Concentrating on archaeology and history with Loki’s warm weight on his ribs and thigh and Loki’s hand balled up against his belly turns out to be a significant challenge.

“Nudge him if he gets too heavy,” Frigga suggests. “I used to have to do that to him often, because he’d nod off against my shoulder and make my hand fall asleep. You probably won’t even wake him.”

Thor doesn’t want to cost Loki a moment’s rest, though. That, and he likes having Loki lying on him. Which is part of the problem. Still, he’s fine and he says so. “I’m just tired too,” he explains. It’s a lie, and yet isn’t. “My mind keeps wandering.” That part is definitely true.

Frigga says she’s happy to pull out her book if he’d rather rest.

He doesn’t dare. If he lets himself fall asleep with Loki, here, he doesn’t even begin to trust what his body might do.

~

They get back to the Inn with just enough time to shower before dinner. Which is good, because oh, do they ever need a good washing. Thor can’t resist; he puts out his tongue and licks the salt off his (cranky, groggy) brother’s shoulder as Loki fumbles around in their bags searching for shampoo and conditioner.

One thing leads to another and they end up kissing, hard, with Loki jammed up against the marble countertop and Thor’s hand fisted in his brother’s hair.

It too, he has to admit as the clumpy strands stick to his fingers, needs some serious scrubbing. Not that he can bring himself to care.

“We have to get washed up,” Loki protests at last. “Mom’s going to come looking for us.”

Thor groans, but right on cue his stomach growls loudly. “Fine,” he huffs, half at his own unhelpful body and half at his brother. “Get in the shower while I shave.”

Loki giggles against his neck. It just makes Thor want to pin his brother back down and kiss Loki all the more thoroughly. “You don’t really need to shave every day,” Loki teases. “We all know you’re just showing off.”

“Get. In. The. Shower,” Thor insists, tapping his brother lightly on the tip of the nose. “Now, you hear me?”

~

Maybe pizza isn’t really Italian, but not one of them cares. It’s delicious and they love it… and the place they end up is wonderful just the same. They skip the antipasti and have salad instead, and it’s a good thing. Their pizzas are huge, big enough that even two teenagers have a hard time polishing off everything. Frigga does her share – it’s been a long, hot day, and although they did snack here and there none of them had felt like much like a meal at lunchtime – but she can’t hope to compete with her sons.

On top of which, and she knows it, she shouldn’t be trying.

The restaurant has (not only wonderful pizza, but) a huge selection of wines by the glass. The three of them laugh their way through the idea of wine pairings. Their server is patient and friendly, though, and it does end up being a nice way to do things. They don’t even feel all that _hoity-toity_ , to quote Loki. That’s probably thanks to the pizza.

The three of them sip the last of their wine and quietly people-watch until they’re just on the verge of nodding off.

~

Back at the Inn the three of them say a quick goodnight and head off to their respective rooms. Thor and Loki literally tumble into bed. They fall asleep in a tangled heap of arms and legs almost immediately, before either of them even has a chance to _think_ about doing anything regrettable.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the last day in Rome, and everyone makes the best of it.

Their third (and last) full day in Rome - early tomorrow afternoon they will be checking out of their posh rooms and flying back up to meet Odin in Montpellier (and although they'd talked initially about taking the train, there would be several transfers and Frigga had decided it wouldn't be a great idea given all their luggage) they take it relatively easy. The three of them have seen the big things they really wanted to see (okay, yes, they all know Thor would have liked to see the Coliseum, but it's another boiling-in-the-sun spot and Loki has kind of had it with lines and street vendors) and- well, they're plain old tired.

Frigga wakes up early (after all these years, even on vacation she can’t seem to avoid it) but she decides to let the twins sleep in. There isn’t anywhere they need to be in a hurry this time. She slides a note under their door, letting them know they can come up and meet her for breakfast on the rooftop terrace whenever they're ready, and then takes the book she’s been reading upstairs and settles in with her coffee. It's midweek, so the place isn't completely packed and no one pressures her to give up her table.

It's a good thing; she has half her book read by the time her sleepy giants drag themselves out of bed and into their clothes and then stumble out onto the roof to join her.

Frigga’s starved. The boys are too. After a good-sized meal that’s more like brunch than breakfast they try (and fail) to strategize for a little while before deciding they should probably just get moving. This time, instead of trying to stick to a structured itinerary, they sightsee rather lazily within easy walking distance of the Inn. At each stop along the way they find a bench or a step or a little cafe and spend time just soaking in the sights and enjoying a sweet or two. They talk about the history of the places, and about what they've liked best about Italy so far.

Loki smiles shyly. He tells Frigga he's really enjoyed getting to spend quality time with her. At home they are all busy, and he and his brother are old enough now that they're always headed off in a million directions. They don't get to talk like they used to, not when nothing's wrong. He realizes now that he's missed it.

It’s sweet. Too, Frigga feels much the same. She vows to make a little more time... for both her boys, but especially for Loki. "Why don't we get back in the habit of making dinner together, one night a week," she suggests. "We can set a day and plan around it, but still move it around if we need to." She wants it to be fun for both of them (and for Thor, and Odin), not just another burden.

Loki brightens. After a couple of days in the sun his cheeks and nose are dotted with freckles, like they used to be when he was small. "I'd love that," he tells her.

"Me too," Thor says. "As long as there are cookies involved."

Eventually their wandering feet carry them back past Trevi Fountain and the three of them share a laugh about whether this uses up the guaranteed return their flung coins earned them. Just to be on the safe side they toss more.

Of course they have another round of gelato, too. They’re right here in front of the little cafe, after all. This time Thor and Loki swap samples. They suck at one another's spoons with a little too much practiced ease and Frigga just _knows_ she will need to talk to Odin. She isn't sure how she feels about them seeking comfort from one another, if that's even what this is, but she does know she and their father have to come up with a unified approach. Whatever it might be.

The whole business can wait until after vacation. Or, at least, it's _going_ to, because she cannot imagine having that sort of conversation here. Or in the lovely south of France, for that matter.

~

They go all-out at dinner, since it's both their last night in Rome and their last night traveling as a little group of three. Frigga's looking forward to seeing Odin tomorrow - they all are! - but Loki has a point: this has been special.

The restaurant is dark and gorgeous. Everyone’s food is fantastic (all three of them take turns sharing this time, and Frigga tells herself it’s _family_ rather than _other things_ ). And the food is very, very worth sharing; Loki’s gnocchi are easily the best even she has ever had.

"I'm going to miss the meals here," Thor teases, "even if you two _do_ get back into cooking.”

"Me too, believe me," Frigga agrees. "But I'm not sure my thighs will."

Loki groans. "Mine either," he says, patting his own tiny rear. Frigga isn't sure if she should laugh or poke him. She goes for the compromise and does both.

~

Later that night, by unspoken agreement, Thor pulls Loki off in the big, gleaming tub while his brother gasps and pants and writhes in the warm water. He's not sure - even counting the several days they've just spent in this special place - he's ever seen anything so beautiful.

Loki gets very, very close to one-upping Thor, planting a big wet kiss on his hipbone and then ducking a little lower to quickly nuzzle into his water-beaded golden curls, but they both freak out a little and in the end Loki simply returns Thor's favor in kind.

Except there's really nothing _simple_ about it.

After they've showered themselves clean, rinsed the tub carefully, and made quick, awkward work of toweling off and brushing their teeth, the two of them spend a long time lying side-by-side in the big bed and pretending they're sleeping. At least, that’s what Thor does. His brother has always been the better pretend-sleeper of the two of them, and even when Loki starts snoring softly Thor still isn’t sure that his brother isn’t faking.

~

In the morning they pack before breakfast. Both of them are yawning constantly... and a little stiff around each other. Thor hates it. Finally he grabs Loki and pulls his brother close. "Last night doesn't change anything, okay? It won’t. Not if we don't let it."

"No, I know," Loki says. "It's just- strange, I guess. We’re in a new place and we can't go back."

Thor frowns. He gives his brother a little space. "Do you wish we could," he asks, trying to keep his voice even despite the way his heart is suddenly pounding like a tiny drum in his chest.

"Of course not," Loki says, leaning in to kiss Thor full on the mouth. "It's just weird. It's going to be weird talking to mom now."

Thor kisses Loki's forehead. "Nah," he says, even though he privately does agree. Inside, he’s groaning. "It'll be fine,” he insists. “We'll just concentrate on the pastries."


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arrivederci, Rome; bonjour, Provence.

Loki loads himself up with some of Frigga’s sinus stuff _before_ the plane takes off this time. Now that they’re in the air his ears are still pressurized – he knows when it’s time to land they’re once again going to hurt like crazy - but overall he feels better. “I don’t think I want a job where I have to do lots of travel,” he tells his mother. “It’s worth it for this but I don’t think it would be just to go on some stupid business trip.’

She laughs. “You’re probably right. Don’t say that in front of your father, though.”

“Why,” Loki asks. “I’ll just be the Odison in this generation to stay with the farm.”

“Riiiight,” Thor teases. _Oh, great_. Loki braces for a comment about his heritage. “That’ll happen,” his brother says instead. “You’d get bored in, like, two seconds.”

“By the time I’m old like mom and dad the place will have actual Internet access,” Loki announces, (maybe just a little too smugly) to cover his mini-panic. “And cable. I’ll be fine.”

The three of them are all in the same row together on this flight, since they don’t have to deal with seating a fourth traveler. Frigga has to stretch across Thor to smack his knee. She manages.

Loki pouts for a couple of minutes – he didn’t say anything that wasn’t _true_ , after all, not this time… and he’d been genuinely worried about what his brother’d been going to say – before shifting in his seat to watch the ocean go by. If he twists a little, there’s more than you might think out there to see; a few times he’s seen islands. When he gets in front of a computer again he has some research to do.

~

Odin knows his obligations will (finally!) end just before dinner. More than a few people aren’t leaving until tomorrow, so there are evening options for those who wish to attend, but they’re not required… just informal get-togethers set up as a courtesy to foreign travelers. Anyone within driving/train distance will be leaving immediately following the last lecture. He’s taking off right along with them.

He’s used to missing his family and to being on his own. While he likes his job overall and is grateful for the opportunity to the opportunity to travel, to see places he might never even have considered going otherwise, there are definite trade-offs. He knows that, and he largely came to terms with everything years ago. It’s just a little harder this time because he knows the three of them – Frigga and his boys, who probably won’t be kids anymore by the next time they get to do a big vacation - are going to be here this afternoon. In a perfect world he would meet them at the airport and spend the rest of the day showing them around.

It’s not a perfect world, though. He’s already skipping out (with most of his peers, sure, but that doesn’t change anything) on the optional coursework tomorrow, as (he wants to spend the day with his wife and kids, and) it doesn’t really apply to his work. Odin knows he can’t really duck out early and skip his last workshop too.

They’ll be fine, he reminds himself. Frigga just navigated half a week in Rome with two teens and without any mishaps. By comparison Montpellier is nothing. They’re going to be taking advantage of all the day-end departures and picking up a second room in his hotel (for the boys), so it’s not going to be a challenge to find them. The place is a short walk away.

By dinnertime they’ll be all his, and vice versa.

Odin stifles a yawn. Believe it or not, he’s a little tired of hearing about agriculture.

~

The plan for the rest of their vacation is simple, in a good way. Frigga had gone back through it (again) with Loki and Thor at lunchtime, in Rome, while they munched on their snacks and sat around in the airport awaiting their flight to France.

They will spend whatever is left of this afternoon, tonight, and as much as they’d like of tomorrow in Montpellier. Their father has rented a car… once they’ve seen enough and are ready to start on their way, they will spend the rest of their time in France on what amounts to a leisurely drive along the southern edge of Provence. Their hotels are booked – it’s a busy time of year in that part of the country, and (although both Thor and Loki thought a little adventure might be fun) neither Odin nor Frigga really wanted to risk getting caught without a room any given evening - so they have places they do need to reach each day, but their time is otherwise free to spend however they’d (collectively) like.

Really, Frigga’s only stipulation – and she’s secretly willing to be as flexible as she needs to be – is that they focus first and foremost on history. Both Thor and Loki find that sort of thing fascinating anyway, so it’s hardly something that’s going to put a damper on their vacation.

As a group they would at least tentatively like to see (a little of Montpellier, although Frigga understands that by now Odin may well want to put it behind him, and then) Arles, Salon-de-Provence (Loki is fascinated by the idea of a _salt trade_ , given that salt is so ubiquitous now, and Thor wants to see the period weaponry), and Aix-en-Provence (cave art!). After that, they will drop all the way down to the coast and head up through Cannes to Nice… and finally fly back to Paris (and then home, and school, and work, and all sorts of other things no one wants to think about) from there.

~

The flight to Montpellier from Rome is a fairly one, at least for the lucky people whose parents were willing to pay a little more to fly direct. They’re through security and reunited with their luggage before 3:00 PM. The three of them pile into the town car Odin’s sent for them – Loki chugging caffeinated soda and ibuprofen, because he’s damned if he’s going to lose any more precious time to his stupid testy head – and start for the hotel.

It’s no Inn at the Spanish Steps, but l’Hotel Ulysse seems nice enough overall. They can’t get into the second room yet – the staff, they’re told, is running a little behind cleaning up after the departing convention guests – but it’s not really an issue; Frigga simply has Thor and Loki dump their bags off in Odin’s room. “Please tell my husband we’ll be back before dinner,” she tells the pleasant enough English-speaking woman at the desk. “We’re off to do a little exploring.”

Loki talks to (at?) Thor en Français. His brother just smiles.

~

_This part of France_ , Loki thinks as he looks up and down the narrow street in front of their hotel, _moves at a much nicer pace than Rome_. He’s actually quite surprised to find he (so far, at least) likes it here better. When they’d been planning their trip, that definitely wasn’t what he’d expected. Montpellier looks beautiful, though, and there aren’t so many _people_ everywhere.

When he says as much to Frigga, she laughs.

“We didn’t exactly give Italy a fair chance, did we, staying in such a huge city and sticking to all the really touristy places,” she reminds him. “But even so I’m not sure I disagree. This part of the world is really special.” She tucks a hand inside his elbow, and then the other hand into Thor’s. “What do you think you would like to see?”

“The old town,” Loki and Thor say at exactly the same time. All three of them burst out laughing.

“Tough decision, eh,” Frigga teases. “Try and compromise, boys; I won’t tolerate any fighting.”


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reunited!

When they burst through the door and tumble onto him like oversized puppies, bowling him over on the bed, Odin realizes just how much he’s _missed_ his sons. And his wife, for that matter, even though Frigga chooses to skip the dad-flattening group hug and wait her turn. “You _two_ ,” he growls, lying on his back with one arm around Thor and the other around Loki. “Look at you,” he adds, glancing quickly back and forth between them. “Italy certainly agreed with you.”

It did. Thor is tan and handsome – not that he wasn’t when he left home, but there’s a light in his eyes that Odin’s not sure he’s ever seen before – and Loki is freckle-faced and lithe and graceful. They smell a lot like line-dried sheets and a little like sweat. He thinks he could hug them forever.

Frigga waits just inside the doorframe, beaming across the room at the three of them. She is as lovely as ever, of course, but there’s a brief hint of something pinched to her expression that Odin silently vows to pursue later. “So,” he asks her as he struggles to sit up from where the boys have him pinned to the bed, “didn’t _you_ miss me?”

She laughs. “Of course. I just didn’t want to get trampled in the _Odinson stampede_. Speaking of which, did the concierge bring up the second key?”

“For the boys?” Odin jerks his head towards the small writing desk near the window. “It’s in that envelope. Unless you want to swap with them and let them stay here; I’m told their room has a whirlpool bath.”

_There it is again_ , he thinks, _a little shadow of dark worry flitting across Frigga’s otherwise-sunny features_. “It’s not worth putting you through the hassle of moving,” she assures him, and just that quickly all traces of whatever it was are gone again. “Not for one night. This room is fine. And,” she goes on, pointing outside, “I see it has a lovely patio.”

He’d managed to spend just two evenings there, watching the light change as late afternoon turned to dusk; his first night in Montpellier, when he’d finished checking in with the event staff over at le Corum by mid-afternoon and had opted to bow out of attending the welcome reception, and then again Tuesday. Later that night he _had_ joined a group of his fellow attendees for dinner, but not until well after dark. His own workshop had ended pleasantly early, thereby giving him a couple of hours to duck back to the hotel and _freshen up_ , and he’d been sure to take full advantage.

There wasn’t any way he could skip Monday night’s dinner gala, though, and yesterday he’d still been making his slow, tired way back from Bouzigues - and a surprisingly interesting day spent studying the economics and aquaculture of tropics-centric fishing… which might not seem all that useful to a farming consultant based out of the American midwest, but Odin does actually intend to put what he’s learned to use on behalf of his customers in Hawaii – as the sun dropped slowly and colorfully below the horizon.

Now that Frigga’s gotten him thinking about the patio, he really wants to enjoy it. “Why don’t you two haul your stuff upstairs,” he tells Thor and Loki as he lets go of them, “and take a few minutes to get settled? Your mom and I are going to enjoy a glass of wine outside before dinner.”

~

They don’t have to be asked twice, not when – one – someone has said the words _whirlpool bath_ and – two – it’s clear their parents are about to get waaaay too schmoopy. Loki and Thor roll up off the bed in unison, leaving Odin bobbing up and down and laughing behind them. They quickly grab all of their collective luggage – Thor hefts the lion’s share, but he basically _is_ a lion so Loki’s not seeing the problem – and head for the door. Along the way Loki scoops up the envelope with their key.

“Half an hour, tops,” Odin tells them. “And then I want you back down here. I’m hungry.”

Loki nods. “No problem,” he assures their dad. “We all are.”

~

It’s a _nice_ room. While it may not measure up to the royal den of iniquity they shared in Italy, it’s a whole lot nicer than either of them had expected. They scurry into the bathroom first thing and drop (fully clothed) into the big tub together, just to test the logistics of how things might work out later. It’s a bit of a tight fit for two tall guys, especially when one of them is _Thor_ , but without clothes it should be fine. Better than fine. Especially when you add bubbles. Which they doubtless will. Who wouldn’t?

After a quick kiss (that still involves enough tongue to be a real problem) the two of them high-five one another and stand, carefully steadying themselves against the wall. “We don’t have enough time,” Loki reminds his brother a little breathlessly as Thor leans in to do a bit more _taking_. “Dad’s no idiot. We don’t need him catching wind of anything.”

Thor farts. 

“You _said_ wind,” he protests as Loki mock-gags and elbows him.

~

It’s a beautiful evening and not at all late, despite Odin’s earlier fussing. They collectively decide to walk (the several largely residential blocks) to the restaurant, which sits right along le Lez; they can still have the hotel send a cab for them later, when they’re full (and maybe a bit tipsy; they can hope), if anyone doesn’t feel up to the walk back. It’s a nice enough area that they can stroll both ways if they want to.

Frigga reminds them all that a little extra walking just means that much more guilt-free eating.

Loki’s not sure he and his brother really do anything guilt-free anymore.

~

“Ooooh!” Frigga’s eyes light up as the host – who tolerates Loki’s attempts at French small talk with admirable patience – guides them out to a table on the patio that overlooks the river. “C’est parfait,” she exclaims. She hugs Odin.

She’s right; it is indeed perfect. Loki orders off the menu carte for all of them, in (what feels to him like) ridiculously awful American French. Their waiter is very tolerant, perhaps because they really are trying. Or maybe they just look like good tippers.

When les amuse-bouche arrive Odin grins across the table at Thor, and then Loki. He pours each of them a glass of wine. “Don’t for a moment think I don’t know what you’ve been up to in Italy,” he warns. Loki’s stomach does a scared little flip, but it’s nothing: “Your mother already told me she’s been _wining_ and dining you the whole trip,” their father goes on. “It’s fine. Just don’t get too used to it, because it’s not going to fly when we get home.”

The two of them fall all over themselves (and each other) to assure their father they’re fine with that; it absolutely won’t be a problem.

It won’t, either. There’s simply no way they wouldn’t feel completely ridiculous eating dinner like this – candles everywhere, the gentle sounds of the river in the background – back at the farm.

And the rest of it, the rest of what they’ve _been up to_? Loki’s simply not going to think about that just now. He isn’t. Not for even a minute.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Odin and Frigga have a big, big talk.

"Okay, spill it," Odin tells his wife as soon as they've hugged their sons goodnight and closed the door behind them. "And don't give me that look. I _know_ something's the matter." He'd noticed it right from the start, when she and the boys had first returned from their sightseeing. It’s not just the odd, cloudy tension he’d seen in her face, though; all evening there’d been something _not quite right_ about her interactions with Thor and Loki.

At first he'd written it off easily enough; after four days of solo teen-wrangling on foreign soil, Frigga was bound to be pretty tired. That, and things are invariably a little _off_ between the two of them when they're first spending time together again after he's traveled. It takes them a few hours, sometimes more, to get back into the easy rhythm they normally share.

When good wine and a charming setting had only served to make things all the worse, though, despite an undeniably delicious dinner full of classically _upscale country_ Provencal treats... Odin had known he wouldn't be able to just let it go without comment. Not once the boys were safely out of earshot.

He pours himself an aperitif and starts for the door to the patio. Frigga catches his arm. "No," she says a little sharply.

"What," he protests. "I haven't had _that_ much to dr-."

"No," she repeats, cutting him off in the process, "I don't want to talk outside. Just in case Thor and Loki can hear us."

Odin feels a quick jolt of fear. "They're a few rooms down the hall," he starts, but their mother has a point: it's still early by French standards, especially for a Thursday evening (it’s almost the weekend!), and the hotel is probably still quite empty. Without a chorus of other drunken voices serving as a backdrop, their own words would doubtless carry. On top of that, if something's up he wouldn't for a second put it past his sons - Loki, especially, but Thor always comes in a close, close second - to take full advantage of a little quiet snooping. He was a teenager once himself, after all. It was a long time ago, but he hasn’t completely forgotten.

He clears his throat and turns back to the dresser-cum-bar. "Okay," he tells Frigga as he pours her a small glass of her own, "we'll stay inside... but don't think that lets you off the hook. _Tell me_."

She laughs. "I know exactly where those sons of yours get it," she teases.

" _Ours_ ," he reminds her. "They're your sons too. Now talk."

Frigga nods. She takes a deep breath and then clears her throat. "Okay, fine," she concedes, "but remember whose idea this was later on when you're wishing like crazy that no one had told you."

"That bad," he asks, with just enough smile in his voice that she can take the out and pass it off as a joke if she needs to.

"I'm not sure _bad_ is the right word for it," she offers, "but it's- it's _big_. Big and _difficult_ and a whole lot of _scary_."

Odin can feel his throat closing. He coughs. "You're- you're okay, right? You're not- sick or something?" He can't even begin to fathom how he would carry on raising the kids if- if... he can’t. He just can’t.

"I'm fine," Frigga tells him quickly. "I'm fine, the boys are fine, we're all fine. It's just- oh, screw it," she snaps. She knocks back her drink shot-style, which really isn't like her, and sits down abruptly. "I don't think the two of them love each other like brothers," she blurts out as he takes the chair across from her.

He blinks. _That's_ all? That’s what this is about? "It's going to take some time for things to get back to normal," he reminds his increasingly-exasperated-looking wife. "Adoption is a big deal. We need to be patient."

"Oh good lord," Frigga exclaims. "I swear you do this to me on purpose. I _think they are IN love_ , Odin." She leans forward, hands spread wide. "Like boyfriend and- well, like boyfriend and _boyfriend_."

Oh.

Oh, wow.

_Shit._

Odin’s hands are shaking. He sets his glass on the low table between them, doing his best not to slop his drink everywhere, and then wipes his mouth slowly with his thumb and forefinger. "Uh," he says stupidly. His mind is simultaneously whirling and blank. It's the oddest feeling. "Um," he stalls again. "I- I don't know what to say."

Frigga slumps back against the cushion behind her. “Yeah,” she agrees, “precisely.”

They sit for several minutes in silence. Odin picks up his glass and takes another sip. He can’t really get his head around the whole business… parts of it make way too much sense, but he feels like every time he gets too close to thinking about his sons together his brain shoots out from under him like a skinned grape. His kids, his twins, are-… he really can’t. It’s that simple.

“Do we need to do something about it,” he asks his wife at last, more than a little reluctantly. He’s genuinely not sure what he wants her to say.

Frigga sighs. “I don’t know,” she tells him. “They seem happy… happier than they’ve been in a long time. I don’t want to do the wrong thing and hurt them.” She shakes her head slowly. “But I also don’t want to set them up to fall headfirst into the kind of trouble they can’t come back from.” She tries to smile and doesn’t really get there. “I’ve done a bunch of reading, you know. I guess this is surprisingly common.”

It shouldn’t make him feel better, probably, but it does. A little bit, at least. “Will they grow out of it,” he asks her.

She shrugs. “Maybe. They’re still very young. But right now they seem to be growing more and more _into_ it, actually.” She studies his face. “You’re really okay with this?”

It’s Odin’s turn to sigh. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t know what to think. I want them both to have what they need to be happy, of course I do. And if this is what that means…” Just now he wants to cry, actually, which he knows isn’t like him. Not at all. “But I- I don’t know.”

Frigga nods. “Yeah,” she agrees, “me neither.”

“Let’s go sit outside,” he suggests. “It’s a beautiful evening.” Odin stands slowly, offering his wife a hand.

He can only hope the whole thing looks better – more clear, at least – in the morning.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, everyone is... tired. Tired, and cranky.

Frigga wakes up with Odin’s arm tucked a bit possessively around her ribs. Still, she’s finally slept in; the sun is coming through the curtains and painting a golden stripe across the rug, and it’s far too bright for dawn. She ducks carefully out from under her husband’s elbow and sits up. It’s strange – not what she expected, not at all – but she feels- lighter. Sharing her secret (their secret, now; it belongs, in a sense, to all of them) has actually spread its weight and defused some of its power.

She’s said the words aloud, admitted that her sons (twin brothers by selection, rather than fate) are also in love and well on their way to being _lovers_ , and- well, nothing’s happened. Night fell, sleep came, and then sun circled around to rise again. It stayed up, too.

_We’re all alive_ , she reminds herself.

Anything else, they can cope with.

~

Breakfast is actually quite a bit easier, too. Frigga no longer finds herself wondering if her mind is playing tricks on her… or by turns trying to convince herself that it’s all her imagination. When her boys ( _their_ boys) join the two of them at a wrought iron café table on the sunny terrace outside the dining room, both wincing as the chairs skip and screech across the slate, she doesn’t have to hope against hope that her husband won’t notice the bite mark peeking out from beneath the collar of Loki’s faded dark grey polo or the way Thor’s lips are unusually red and puffy.

They’re a family, and they’re two couples.

Someday she may even be able to get her head around it.

“How was the tub,” Odin asks, all polite, solicitous innocence. “I have to tell you, I’m envious.”

“Um, it was nice,” Loki says. His eyes flit up to meet Thor’s very, very briefly. They’re both blushing. “Lots of- bubbles.”

“I bet,” Odin agrees, laughing. “And lots of room to stretch out. I took a quick look at that room when the man from the desk first dropped off your key. I swear that thing would have fit _two of me_ , easy.”

Thor splutters into his juice. Loki turns so red it looks painful. “Um, yeah,” he tries. “I guess. I didn’t really notice.”

Frigga gives her husband a quick, silent kick under the table. “Well,” Odin says, “it beats our shower for sure.” He smiles at the boys. “So… what do you want to do today?”

~

They don’t really have anything specific they’d like to see in Montpellier and, as Frigga had warned them earlier on, their father is indeed more than a bit tired of the city. The four of them spend an hour or so driving around, just soaking up the sights, and then pile (themselves and their luggage, which seems to be getting heavier by the day despite no concentrated shopping) into the rental car. By mid-morning they’re making their way up to Nimes.

It’s a nice town; they all think so. After a bit more sightseeing and a quick stop at les Arènes – Thor has developed what Loki is on the verge of deeming an unhealthy obsession with Romans, gladiators specifically, which is unfortunate because Loki doesn’t even want to _think_ about bullfighting and that’s how all these big Roman amphitheaters and arenas are being used today… and he _hates_ that, because the colossal structure really _is_ fascinating – they head to les Jardins de la Fontaine.

The fountains are lovely; the grounds are peaceful. Loki is finally able to relax, too; he doesn’t have to squint to pretend nothing’s being tortured there. He sprawls out on the grass with his head on Thor’s crossed ankles (it’s probably a little risky, sure, but they sit like this in the yard at home all the time and have for as long as he can remember) to watch the birds dart past.

“You two look cozy,” Frigga says. Loki can feel Thor stiffen.

Loki spots her bait for what it is and doesn’t take it. “It’s so beautiful here,” he observes, like everything’s normal. “Come sit.”

She does. He shuffles over, walking himself along on his elbows, and sags into her lap instead. “Ahh,” he teases as he squirms around a bit to get extra-comfortable, “much better. Thor’s kind of unpleasantly solid. You’re much squishier.”

Frigga pinches him.

His father makes the mistake of laughing, and she pinches Odin too.

~

They run into the same problem again in Arles. It’s starting to look like a trend, and not in a good way; Thor is all about the Roman arena, and Loki is _NOT_ about bullfighting. It’s midday, and hot; they’re a little worn from the flight yesterday (and from staying up way too late making very, very cozy use of that hot tub). Thor calls him a little girl and Loki calls his brother a stupid brute and before they know it they’re pushing and jostling.

Loki slaps Thor across the face and Thor shoves him hard. He stumbles and falls backwards. The ground is dry and strewn with small stones; he lands heavily on the palms of both hands and it _hurts_.

Odin snaps at Thor, who stomps off. Loki ends up huddled in the tiny patch of shade next to the car, crying.

~

Lunch helps a little, although Thor and Odin are still short with one another and Loki spends a lot of time snuffling extra dramatically. Frigga wouldn’t admit it under interrogation, but just this second she’s _almost_ wishing she was visiting the south of France without any of them.

~

The museum of antiquities is a success, fortunately. Both Thor and Loki love - _love_ \- the mosaic restoration. The bright blue building is a bit jarring but the old chariot track it borders captivates Thor without upsetting Loki. The exhibits are incredible. They spend the whole afternoon there, much longer than any of them had intended, but it’s worth it; when they finally make their slow, tired way back out to the car, all four of them are smiling and cheerful.

Thor apologizes; Loki hugs his brother. They cling a little too tightly for a little too long, but Frigga just cocks an eyebrow at Odin and pointedly says nothing.

~

The hotel is quite hard to find. When they finally get there, though, it turns out to be _worth it_ too. The building is a nice mix of old stone walls and modern conveniences and it’s soft and bright and just not the kind of place where anyone can stay sad (or angry) for long.

Frigga’s very, very pleased when not one of them argues as she suggests a nap before dinner.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cave art. All the glorious cave art.

It feels a bit like backtracking, heading all the way up north to l’Ardèche to visit le Caverne de Pont-de Arc, but they’d all turned in early and Frigga is able to get the boys out of bed with barely any prodding. They’ve been practically drooling over cave art pictures all summer, ever since Odin’d first mentioned coming to Europe and this trip was nothing more than a vague idea. Frigga hasn’t got it in her to disappoint them.

Especially considering how the overnight in Aix is really for her and not for her kids to start with.

Given what she now knows, their lodgings will be a little awkward – a gorgeous little five-star boutique hotel that was once a very posh boudoir – but she can’t find it in herself to really care. It’s a serious vacation, and she wants a little pampering. That said, she can easily wait until late afternoon to get it. There’s always tomorrow morning, if she arrives there too tired to enjoy the spa.

On the drive up to Pont-de Arc Frigga’s _almost_ sorry she’s decided to indulge her sons. Loki and Thor slap and poke and bicker and tease until it's difficult for her to believe they too will be driving soon. That they're growing up, with adult tastes and adult needs. "Moooom," Thor howls after a particularly ringing smack, one that had hurt all the way up in the front seat and proven impossible to talk over. "Loki's hitting meee."

"Don't make me stop this car," Odin only half-jokes. "Or you're both grounded." It's an empty threat - there's really no way their father can make it stick, even if he _is_ suddenly ready to waste a whole bunch of money - but the twins ultimately still are good boys at heart. Odin’s warning alone is enough to quiet them down, at least until Loki lets the centrifugal force of the next sharp turn hurl him right across the vinyl seat and onto his brother.

"Okay," Frigga chimes in. It's not fair to make Odin be the bad cop all the time. "That's enough. Both of you. Loki," she orders, "fasten your seatbelt. No prank is funny enough to die for."

"So," Odin prompts brightly once everyone is _finally_ sitting quietly. "Which do you like better so far? France, or Italy?"

~

The first thing Thor can’t help but notice is that, outside the replica cave, there is absolutely nothing to do here. Nothing. The cave art, though, more than makes up for it. It may actually be the coolest thing he's _ever_ seen. The real cave is protected now, since - as he and Loki know from their pre-vacation reading - an endless stream of sweaty, chemical-laden tourists (and even scholars) and effective preservation are mutually exclusive. It really doesn’t matter, though. Everywhere they turn there are wonderful, amazing, fascinating, lovely exhibits, and Loki has to be pried free of each and every one in order to be shuttled off to the next.

The pictures they’ve seen of the Grotte de Lascaux II were impressive enough; the brand new Chauvet replica, far more convenient in terms of the rest of their vacation and only open a few months now, is breathtaking.

Loki is especially taken with the horses. All these thousands of years later and even a casual glance is enough to see it; these painters _loved_ the big animals. Not that he’s _giving_ it a casual glance… he actually can’t tear himself away. If he could paint living things this effectively Loki knows he might never leave his studio.

His imaginary studio, that is, the one he doesn’t have and isn’t nearly good enough to really make proper use of regardless.

All of the creatures, some incredibly lifelike and others fantastical, interact with one another in much the way real animals always do: grazing, sleeping, playing, even mating. There are plenty of works showing predators hunting... but none of human greed or human cruelty. There isn't a single mammoth full of spears or bird shot through with arrows.

It's peaceful. Worshipful. He could sit here on the floor (and easily ignore the people stepping over and around him) for the rest of his days.

In short, Loki just _loves_ it.

~

Thor very much likes the art here too. Even the idea of it is powerful and affecting, the realization that people stood in the caves of this region more than 30,000 years ago and decorated their spaces with such painstaking care. If he gets his way Thor will make things for a living someday but, even so, he can't even begin to fathom what it would be like to craft something so long-lasting.

What he like most, though, more than all the animals and decorative work and the footprints of both people and bears, is both far simpler and endlessly complex.

He really, really likes watching his brother.

Loki is- transfixed. He's sunk down to sit cross-legged on the cave floor, his bottom resting neatly in one of the rounded depressions the guidebook says are (imitation, but still!) bears' nests, and he's looking at a frieze of horses in a way that even Thor can only call _enraptured_. He's the loveliest thing in the entire exhibit. His face is soft and his eyes are _glowing_.

Thor steps carefully into the depression behind his brother and squats down. When he settles a hand slowly and gently onto Loki's shoulder, his brother hums. "Isn't this just incredible," Loki asks. Whispers, really. Thor has to lean in to hear at all. "It's so much better than I ever imagined." Loki hums again, silently this time. Thor can feel the vibrations through his brother's skin.

_Oh, yes_ , he thinks. _It's amazing._

~

The drive down to Aix is even longer, but the boys are relaxed and sleepy and they don’t spend it annoying one another. Frigga can enjoy the scenery.

All in all, it’s a very pleasant day.

~

The hotel is perfect. It’s an exclusive little place, with just four rooms; Frigga and Odin have the suite; the twins have a cute room that probably isn’t a great choice given their new(?) predilection for one another – the bath, a huge, deep soaker tub, is right out in the middle of the bedroom – but there’s nothing to be done for it now and she’s determined not to let anything ruin her (their) time here.

~

Thor wants to nap and Odin is planning on reading, so Loki accompanies his mother down to the spa. He floats in weightless in the saltwater pool, eyes closed.

It’s heaven.

If he could just stop time, everything would be perfect.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To keep things secret from Frigga, you really have to be on top of your game.

Frigga sinks gratefully into the warm, salty water – lower, lower… perfect! - until she's submerged all the way up to her chin. There's a small waterfall directly across the pool from where she’s soaking and its current creates wavelets that splash gently against her face. The mineral content is so high that it’s almost more work to stay upright than it would to give in and bob up to glide along on the surface, but she doesn’t care… the water feels nice (and smells of stones and sun-drenched sand) and she very much wants to take full advantage of it. Plus, this way, she can keep a watchful eye on her youngest.

Loki floats feet-first. From the other end of the pool he reminds Frigga of a leaf, bobbing and drifting with the water’s gentle motion. When he reaches the near wall he pokes out a hand and bounces slowly along it. Frigga turns to watch as he passes close by, at most a couple of feet in front of her. His eyes are closed and his hands flutter just below the surface. He’s always been a graceful swimmer; his fingers remind her of bony fins.

His hair floats loose, freed from its customary ponytail. It spreads out behind him like a halo of shiny black feathers. He’s managed to get a hint of a tan, here and there. Still, a little color in his face doesn’t come close to hiding the dark circles under his eyes.

In such close quarters she can’t help but notice how they match the purpled mark just below his collarbone, over towards the sharp jut of his shoulder, almost perfectly.

Frigga shudders. She squeezes her eyes tight shut. Just standing here trying to go on living feels like falling.

When she opens them again her baby boy has already paddled another yard or so away. From this distance the bite – because there’s simply no point in pretending it’s anything but - is a just a faint, dark oval. She pushes off the pool bottom and reaches out to wrap her fingers around his ankle.

Loki lets out a surprised little huff and pops up, blinking and spluttering and slicking his hair back. "Huh? Mom? What's wrong?" He hops one-legged in the water, struggling to keep his balance.

Frigga swallows. She lets go of his foot. "I want you to know you can talk to me. No matter what," she starts in, reaching a pruned finger out to tuck her son's hair behind the sunburned crescent of his ear. "And I want to be sure you're okay."

His forehead wrinkles as his brows pull together. "Um, sure, okay," he says, sounding uncertain. Cautious. "Is something going on?"

It’s not like there’s ever going to be a _right time_ for this conversation. "I'm worried," she admits, touching his shoulder just above the bruise. "About this. About you."

He looks down briefly and then abruptly away. When she tugs at his chin to steer him back around to face her, his eyes are _huge_.

"Sweetie," she hurries to reassure him, "I'm not upset with you. Or with your brother. I'm not," she repeats as he shakes his head, trying to pull free. He looks like he's die right here if he could; Frigga feels awful. Awful, and more than a little afraid. "But you should know that I'm here for you, too. You’ll never have to go it alone."

Loki stiffens. "See, that's where you're wrong," he says, wrenching free and standing all the way up abruptly. Water sluices down his front. "I'll always have to go it alone, really." He whirls as sharply as the water will allow and makes for the edge of the pool.

"Loki, wait," Frigga calls after him. She swims towards the stairs, moving quickly this time. "Please."

He does stop, one knee up on the wall and the other leg still trailing in the water. There's another yellow-green semicircle on the inside of his thigh, halfway up from his knee, and she can't even _think_ about _that_. "Look," she says, "I'm not going to lie. I'm worried. I'm scared, even. But I know sometimes our lives choose us rather than the other way around. I promise I'll do everything I can to support you."

He slumps a little, curling in around his raised knee. "I love him, mom,” he confirms. Not like she didn’t know already. “And he loves me." Loki's shoulders start to shake as the tears come. "We didn't mean for any of this to happen." He collapses back into the water with a ragged sob. "If you want me gone I'll understand."

" _What?_ Want you _gone_ ," she asks. She's horrified. "No! Never!" She scoops him up and pulls him close. The water's buoyancy makes it easy to cuddle him like a small child despite the fact he's insanely tall these days. "We're your parents," she reminds him. "You're our son. How you came to be with us doesn’t change that… and this doesn’t either. Nothing will."

She holds him for a long time in the warm, salty water, powerless to do anything more than gently rub his back as he cries.

~

_She knows._

Loki repeats it over and over to himself, silently, but even that doesn't seem to help. He can't process it. He and Thor have spent so long being so careful and he had to go and blow it all in an instant by- by stupidly taking off his shirt. He can't see for crying and he can't face his father ever again and he would just sink below the surface and die the death he deserves except for how he's caught in the warm circle of his mother's arms. That and the water won't let him.

He'd have to float to death here, and that would take forever.

Loki's chest _hurts_. He's almost out of tears. "He's going to _kill_ me," he says; he means it to be his inside voice but it must not be because Frigga's arms tighten around him.

"No, honey," she says into the wet hair on the very top of his head. "No one’s going to kill anybody. Thor loves you. Your dad loves you." She gives him a tight, tight squeeze. "We'll get through this."

Loki isn't sure there _is_ anything to get through. He doesn't want to live without this sick thing he and Thor share.

He knows better than to say that, though. Even when he's a wrecked, bawling mess. "Does dad know," he asks instead.

Frigga squeezes him again. "Yes," she tells him. "He's frightened too. But no one is upset with you, honey."

"I like what I like," he parrots, thinking back to their first conversations about his sexuality. Those days feel like a lifetime ago. Loki can’t stop blinking; his eyes are burning... from the salt or the tears, he doesn't know.

"You do," his mom agrees. She laughs, very softly. "But if you don't mind I'm going to set you down anyway."

She lets him balance on one foot and then both. He teeters against the current briefly before really sticking his landing.

"Are we okay," she asks softly, reaching out to cup his cheek with one cool palm.

Loki isn't sure. He shrugs. Nodding feels like lying.

"I love you. Your father loves you,” she tells him again, like she thinks he’s forgotten. “We just want you to be safe and happy. I promise."

He does nod, this time. "Have – have you talked to Thor," he asks.

When she shakes her head no, he rakes back his hair with one shaking hand. "Please," he says, "don’t, then. Let me."


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confessions... buy one, get one half off.

Dinner is a little awkward. Loki blames his irritated eyes and scratchy voice on the saltwater pool - "I shouldn't dunked my head underwater," he says, which is kind of true - and Frigga claims she's _just a little tired_. "I didn't get to nap like you did, after all," she reminds Thor when he makes fun of her for repeatedly yawning.

The longer the evening wears on... and it does _wear on_ (and on and on), because eating dinner here is really not a fast-paced undertaking... the more Loki regrets having signed up to be the one to tell his brother.

It's not like he can blame his mom, even. He'd flat out volunteered to do the honors. _Pleaded_ , you could probably call it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Then again, he and Frigga hadn't agreed on _when_ all this telling might be happening. Loki takes a deep breath and tries to relax. Maybe he can stall the whole thing off until they get home. They're missing the first week of school thanks to this trip; as soon as they're back in town they're all going to be ridiculously busy.

_If I play the whole thing right,_ he deludes himself, _maybe I won't have to tell him at all_.

It's a dumb idea and he knows it. Still, it's enough to get him through les escargots, in butter (which is all sorts of wrong when he really thinks about it – eating snails, that is). By the time they're on to something less distressful - something creamy and lush and wrapped in the most delicate puff pastry he's ever had the pleasure of tasting - Loki has mostly managed to forget he has a problem.

Mostly.

~

Thor feels as if he hasn't seen his brother all day. He knows that’s not literally true - they'd spent hours poking through the (really, really cool, honest!) cave exhibits just this morning - but he'd dozed off during the drive back down to Aix and had been too tired for anything but more napping once they'd gotten up to their room. He'd expected Loki'd be joining him upstairs long before dinner, but it hadn't worked out that way and they'd both had to scramble like crazy to get ready.

There hadn't been any time for- for _anything_. Not even brushing their teeth.

So, he doesn't feel the least bit guilty (or sorry) when the two of them barely get the door closed before he's all over Loki. At least, he doesn't until he realizes - and it takes him a lot longer than it should have, what with his brother pinned up against the door and his tongue exploring Loki's garlicky mouth, which is actually kind of upsetting - that his brother isn't really reciprocating.

"Um," he tries, letting go of Loki's wrists and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, "are you mad at me?" He has no idea what he did but traveling is hard work and they're all a little tired. It wouldn't be the first time his brother had gotten all bent out of shape over an imagined slight, either.

Or, in fairness, the first time he’d done something stupid himself without knowing it. Like kissing when it’s not welcome. Except that hasn’t happened in- ever, maybe.

Whatever it is, he certainly doesn't expect Loki to burst out crying. Thor takes a step back, to give his brother space to duck away. Loki darts for the floor-to-ceiling window and stands looking out over the street, ribs heaving and shoulders shaking.

"Loki? Baby?" Thor isn't sure if he should go to his brother or leave; he ends up stuck halfway in between, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other by the bathtub. "What's-."

"They know," Loki blurts out. "Mom and dad know."

Thor's stomach drops all the way down into the room below them. When it comes back up, his dinner very nearly follows along with it. "How," he asks when he finally thinks he can risk opening his mouth again.

"I didn't tell them," Loki snaps, "if that's what you're thinking."

It wasn’t, and it doesn't really matter anyway. Thor's too shocked to point fingers. "Are we- are they- what's-?" He can't even string together a sentence. He rests his hands on the tub rim and just stands there breathing hard. "They seemed okay at dinner," he finally manages to say. "What- when-?"

Loki whirls around, fists clenched. "Fine. You’re right. It’s my fault. I took my stupid shirt off in the spa. You bit me, remember?" He yanks the neckline of his shirt towards his shoulder viciously; Thor can hear a few stitches pop. "So, yeah, I suck. Go ahead, hate me."

Something raw in Loki's voice makes its way through the fog and actually registers. Thor comes unstuck, finally. He circles the tub and hurries to the window, not even caring if his brother hits him. He wraps his arms around Loki, fists and all. "I don't want to hate you," he says. "I _love_ you."

_Oops_.

"Mom didn't even yell," Loki says after several minutes spent crying into Thor's shirt. "She's just- worried. I feel like such an idiot. I'm- I'm sorry."

Thor breathes a careful, silent sigh of relief. Relief because they're not going to be split up and sent to boarding schools in Siberia. Or wherever. Someplace with nuns. That, and because he's gotten away with slipping and saying the l-word. Out loud. At what might have just been the least appropriate moment ever.

"Shh," he soothes, hugging Loki even more tightly. "Maybe it's better this way."

Loki hiccups out a little derisive grunt. "In what imaginary universe can that _possibly_ be true," he grumbles. He sounds a little more like himself again.

Thor shrugs. He kisses Loki's neck through a wet, salty mop of tear-soaked hair. "We were bound to slip up eventually."

"I know," Loki admits. "I just always thought it would be you that did the slipping."

~

"He _told_ you," Odin asks. “Seriously?” She gets why he doesn't believe what he's hearing... Loki is normally so secretive, even when there isn't any good (any-any) reason behind it.

"I guessed," she corrects. She isn't up to explaining exactly what had transpired, not tonight anyway. "And he didn't deny it. He's so stressed about everything. I feel- I feel like we should have said something sooner." She leans against Odin's warm side. "He actually asked if we were going to make him _leave_."

Odin groans. “I’ll trust you handled that.”

Frigga shrugs. “I tried. I just hope he believed me.”


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Côte d'Azur is lovely, at least until Odin spills beans all over everything.

The four of them plan their day over breakfast. They all agree: the scenic coastal route is the way to go. It's a Sunday, so the winding roads are bound to be busy, but early September is already past the end of peak season. Plus they're not in a hurry anyway. With the whole day available, to make what amounts to a half-day's drive, there's just no good reason not to sightsee.

Especially since they're all starting to feel the weight of the trip's end pressing down upon them.

~

Last night had been remarkable mainly for its decidedly uneventful nature. Loki'd filled the big tub and the two of them had taken a long soak together, which had been relaxing and nice, but he and his brother hadn't really done much - in the tub, or in the big bed afterwards - beyond curling up and holding one another.

It turns out nothing puts a damper on all things romantic quite as effectively as knowing your parents are a room away... and far too aware of exactly what you'd probably be doing if they- uh- weren't quite so _informed_ about you. Loki hopes they can shake the disgustingly creepy feeling of being- um- _disgustingly creepy_ once they're back home. Otherwise he might have just made the most pointless incest confession ever.

~

Once they get under way, Loki and Thor watch the scenery quietly. After a while Loki shifts to get more comfortable and lets their fingertips brush together fake-accidentally. His brother jumps, but doesn’t pull away. So far, so good. Loki does a little quick recon, under the guise of checking out an interesting cloud on Thor's side of the car, and decides they can hold hands without getting caught by their parents as long as they're smart about it.

He laces his fingers into his brother's. Thor lets out a very small moan and Loki makes a panicked shushing gesture. When he settles back into his own spot, his brother knocks a guidebook onto the floor.

“Oops,” Thor says conversationally, bending to grab it. On the way back up he stealthily kisses Loki’s fingers.

Okay, then.

Perhaps the spark isn't completely gone out of everything after all. Over the course of the next ten kilometers Loki plays idly with the tip of his brother's thumb until he even has _himself_ squirming.

~

"Oh, wow. Take a look at _that_ ," Frigga exclaims, whipping around to point at something over Loki’s right shoulder. He and Thor jump (guiltily, and it's _good_ ) apart. They both hurry to follow their course of their mother’s gesture; Loki catches sight of an abandoned house that could almost be a castle.

"We should stay here in Provence and renovate it," he suggests as his brother nods enthusiastically. "Dad, seriously, you could open up the European market." Living here - staying here forever - feels like a beautiful, perfect dream.

Odin laughs. "It's tempting," their father says, which earns a string of jumbled _please-please-pretty-please_ begging from both Loki and Thor. "But Grandpa Bor would be terribly disappointed."

Loki twists in his seat to look up at the blue, blue sky. "I think he'd understand," he points out. Even though he knows it isn't true. It’s worth a try, anyway.

~

They stop in Toulon to stretch their legs and buy croissants. Every single place they've visited to date has had an _old town_ and Toulon itself is no exception; below them stretches a nice assortment of tile roofs atop old stone buildings. The four of them take turns helping one another freshen up the sunscreen (yes, Thor has a touristy white zinc oxide nose; no, there's no reason whatsoever to spoil the effect by _telling_ him) and then set off on foot to explore.

It's nice to be up and moving. During their stay in France Loki has finally managed to replace (okay, _supplement_... Frigga loves his ridiculous floppy hat and would be crushed if he were to "lose" it) his idiotic beach topper with a sharp French fisherman's cap. He looks adorable and he knows it. It's totally worth having to slather his ears with sunscreen.

He and Thor sneak a quick selfie - Loki winking jauntily into the camera; Thor kissing his cheek - while their parents are off oohing and ahhing over yet another interesting fountain. _Yep_ , he confirms, _adorable._

~

From Toulon east it's just one pretty spot after another... beaches and quaint towns and glamorous play-spots for the very, very rich and famous. They have a lazy lunch in Fréjus, knowing Cannes can’t possibly be anything but mobbed on such a gorgeous weekend afternoon. The restaurant Frigga chooses is near the port, close enough that there’s plenty to watch without being right on top of the hustle and bustle. It’s a pretty place, all fresh white and blue and breezy outdoor seating. It’s also ridiculously busy. The staff manages to be very sweet to them anyway, especially once Loki does his best to enquire after to their wellbeing in French, and by halfway through the main course all four of them are vowing to come back for another meal someday.

“When I move here,” Loki declares. “You can all come visit me.”

Thor looks horrified. “You’re staying on the farm, Loki. You promised.”

Loki- didn’t. He hasn’t. To top it off, Thor had _made fun of him_ for suggesting it, even in passing. He lets that go, though, because his brother looks crushed and it’s quite the ego booster. “Oh, fine,” he says, because he wants a little more of this. “ _You_ can move here and _I’ll_ come visit.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Thor says a little sharply. “We’ll all come here on vacation someday. Leave it already,” he adds as Loki starts to argue.

Odin frowns. “Look, you two,” he admonishes. “I know we’re all doing our best to look past the elephant in the-“ – he looks around them – “in the _portico_ , but you’re both young. You have your whole lives ahead of you. Don’t make commitments now that will limit your choices. No, hear me out,” he goes on as they both try to cut in. “So much can change.” He holds up a hand. “I’m not saying I want that to happen. I’m not. I don’t even _know_ what I want for you, besides that I want you both to be happy. I just- you don’t know how you’ll feel in a few years. You’re _fifteen_ , for goodness’ sake. Leave your options open.”

“Jesus, dad,” Thor exclaims after several seconds of stunned silence.

Their father covers his face with both hands. “I’m sorry,” he says to the cheery blue woven tablecloth. “I am. I don’t know what got into me.”

Frigga takes Thor’s and Loki’s hands. “Well.” She gives them both a squeeze. “I guess the proverbial ice has been broken, eh?”

Loki thinks, privately, that he liked _his_ ice better solid.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paradise, at the end of the line...

If the strained silence is anything to go by, it takes a while for everyone (anyone!) in the car to slip back into some semblance of a vacation state of mind. Frigga feels bad for- well, for all of them, really. While it’s undoubtedly a relief to have everything (far too much of everything, but it is what it is and they’re going to have to deal with it) out in the open, or at least it will be once they’ve had a little while to adjust, the timing’s not ideal and the execution was nothing short of clunky.

Loki is huffy at Odin – and she can’t really blame her baby boy, but this is a really tough spot to be in as a parent… on top of which, her husband has never been the _feelings and tough subjects_ person – and Thor just seems mortified. Not surprised, though, so he and Loki must have had that talk after all.

Thor’s definitely embarrassed. So is she, for that matter.

Admittedly, her own conversation with Loki had really only been slightly less graceless than Odin’s _speech_ over lunch. If that. The only thing that had spared the two of them a huge blowup was the fact they’d been in the hotel spa alone. If their whole little family had been spending the afternoon there together… well, she doesn’t even want to think about what might have happened.

All in all, yes, she absolutely feels sorry for the four of them. They’re over the secrecy, maybe, and that can only be good. The _here and now_ , though? Not so lovely.

~

Over the course of the drive the beautiful scenery gradually works its magic. Odin gradually relaxes his death grip on the steering wheel, progressing slowly from white-knuckled and clenched-jawed to the point where he’s got one hand resting lightly on the wheel and the other dangling out the window. If Frigga turns her head just a little, she can see that Thor has dozed off; his golden crown bobs and rolls gently against the seatback as Odin drives on. She puts her visor down under guise of checking her lipstick… Loki isn’t sleeping, but he’s looking out the window at the passing scenery and his face is no longer a rigid mask. Frigga angles her visor a little lower and, sure enough, he’s holding hands with his brother. Yet again.

She’s not sure if it bothers her a little less, now, or a little more. _At least_ , she reminds herself, _they’re good to one another_. At his most difficult Thor has _never_ treated his brother the way- the way Amora did. And while Sif had always been nice to Thor, their interactions were always more- brotherly. Sisterly.

That strikes her as funny, funnier than it should. She laughs quietly under her breath; Loki shifts in the back seat. “What,” he leans forward to whisper into the space between her seat and the window. “What am I missing?”

Frigga turns towards the door, hoping the wind rushing past Odin’s window will at least give him the opportunity to pretend he isn’t able to hear them. “It just hit me,” she whispers back, “that Sif and Thor were more brotherly than the two of you ever were.” And then she cringes, because it didn’t sound nearly as neutral (or as funny) out loud as it had in her head.

Loki snorts, though, and Frigga lets out a big whooshing breath. “You know,” he tells her, “I’m pretty sure that’s why they never got anywhere.”

~

They’re all tired when they finally make it to Nice. And that’s okay; they have two days here, the last two actual vacation days of their break from _real life_ , so an afternoon spent lazing around the hotel isn’t going to hurt anyone any.

Once they _get_ to the hotel, too, Frigga isn’t sure they’ll actually leave it. Sightseeing be damned.

~

Originally, she and Odin had planned to book rooms in Nice proper. They’d found several appealing choices but, after what they knew would be an exhausting whirlwind (and that was _without_ all the _big news_ they hadn’t really been expecting) of a trip, winding things up (or down) in hotel downtown just didn’t sound quite like what they wanted. They’d broadened their search a little and opted to instead stay in Eze… and not in the main hotel, but out in two of the unique freestanding suites. _What’s not to like_ , they’d asked themselves and one another, _about all the best modern conveniences tucked into a couple of 9th century buildings?_

Yes, the place was crazy expensive… but once they’d seen the pictures it was all over. Nothing else came even close.

~

They park in the little lot at the foot of the hill. “We have to drag our luggage all the way up there,” Loki asks a little peevishly as his brother yawns. “Seriously?”

“Hush, you,” Frigga admonishes. “It’ll be so worth it.”

Loki looks up the steep roadway off to the right as they trudge along, following the signs pointing to reception. The village is cute, he has to admit. It might even be fun to explore. Tomorrow, that is, after he’s had a good night’s sleep.

The lobby area itself is cute, too. He’s not sure it’s _so worth it_ , but it looks nice. Really nice. It also looks quiet and solid. You-can-make-noise-in-your-room-without-your-parents-hearing-every-bit-of-it solid, which is a big plus. There’s lots of rock. Rock is good. Rock walls may even let him spend some- er- some _quality time_ with his brother. Doing quality things.

He’s lost in a very, very nice daydream, not even paying the slightest bit of attention, when his mother asks if he’s listening. 

Loki jumps. “Wha? No. Sorry,” he tells her. “Tired. Sorry,” he repeats. He can feel his face burning.

“Your suite is here,” she tells him, pointing at a hand-drawn map. “And ours is here. We’ll walk you up, just to be sure you can find it. You’ll be okay, won’t you?”

~

_Okay_ doesn’t even begin to describe it. Loki is positive he could live out the rest of his days in the bathroom alone, enjoying gazing up at the rough, arched stone ceiling as he floats comfortably in the huge whirlpool bath.

The room itself is more of the same… boundless luxury tucked into someone’s medieval house. Or shoppe, maybe.

It hasn’t got the stupefying views of Cap Ferrat the hotel itself boats, true.

Not that he’d _dare_ say it in front of his parents, but Loki’s guessing he and his brother won’t be out of that tub – or out of bed – anywhere near long enough to notice.

~

“Holy crap,” Thor says once their parents have finally left them alone (with stern orders to _rest up before dinner_ ). He looks around the suite, at the arched stone ceiling and the huge, soft bed. Loki can feel him vibrating with excitement, even from a foot away. “This is incredible. It probably cost more than buying an entire house at home.”

Loki smiles. It really _is_ nice. He’s not sure he’s ever seen anything quite this beautiful… and they’ll be eating dinner over in the main building, where they can look out over the water and pretend they’re royalty. He feels like he should pinch himself and be sure he hasn’t died. “Probably,” he agrees. “It would be a terrible shame to waste it, don’t you think?”

Thor laughs. He steps forward and wraps Loki in a warm, strong hug. “Oh, definitely.” He _giggles_ , then. It’s terribly contagious. They’re tired.

They’re idiots.

When their lips touch, though, the two of them quickly do stop laughing.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paradise, in the afternoon, in paradise.

The view really is extraordinary. Frigga sips her champagne, sets the glass carefully back on its low teak tray, and floats slowly to the outer edge of the pool (the infinity edge, where - from the right angle - the recirculating water makes it look as if she could swim right off into the sky). From here she can see cars on the road to Monaco, the cliffs... and beyond all that the deep, glorious blue of the coastal Mediterranean. Straight down, she can make out the far edge of the gardens. If she were to really strain Frigga knows she could probably see their rental car, but that would destroy the illusion of being in heaven. She doesn't bother.

"I'm really glad we decided to do this trip," she tells Odin. He's sitting on the back edge of the pool, alongside their drinks, with a boldly striped towel draped around his neck and his feet in the water. "Thank you!"

He smiles. "I just had a vague idea," he reminds her. "You’re the one who made the whole thing actually happen." But then his mouth quirks a little and she shivers.

"What," she prompts. "That face," she explains, waggling her hand at him. "You were all happy and then- _this_. What's going on in that sunburned old head of yours?" It is, too. He hasn't been nearly as diligent about the sunscreen as their boys have. At his age, not to mention her own, she feels a little funny mothering him about it.

He sighs. Frigga turns and breaststrokes lazily back to where he's sitting. She has another sip of her wine, and another.

Odin holds his glass up to the light. "Do you think we- we _caused this_ " – and from his obvious discomfort she knows exactly which _this_ he means, too - "by bringing them here? To Europe? Not _caused_ ," he corrects himself before she can argue. "Fostered, maybe?"

Frigga ducks all the way underwater to get her hot, heavy hair nice and wet. "No," she tells him, wiping her face. She blinks the water out of her eyes, over and over, until the lovely view is once again sharp and clear. "It's been going on a long time," she continues. It has. "Looking back, I'm sure of it. Being here just gave all of us time to really focus on one another as a family. That's a good thing," she stresses as he groans. "It's something we should know, too, even if it might be easier _in the now_ not to."

"I just don't know what to- to think. To do." He polishes off his champagne and pours them each a refill. The silver wine bucket is covered with perfect beads of sweat; Frigga can see the fish-eye reflections of a thousand tiny skies over a thousand miniature seas.

She rests her cheek on her husband's thigh. Even the hairs on his legs are mostly grey these days. They're not getting any younger, either one of them. "The same thing we always do," she suggests. "Keep the lines of communication open. Spend quality time alone with each of them, listening. Really listening." She shrugs, letting her head rock just above his knee. "And keep an eye out for trouble."

Odin laughs, short and sharp. "I'm pretty sure my trouble eye is broken," he says. "So, who gets to give the _safe sex reminder_? Because- ugh."

"Oh, I think _that_ one’s in the Man Book," Frigga teases. "Hey, watch it.” She twists away as he kicks one foot up out of the pool. “You'll get water in our wine. As much as this bottle cost, what a _waste_ that would be.”

They stop horsing around and rest quietly at the pool’s edge, looking out to sea. Frigga settles her fingers loosely over Odin’s, where they’re wrapped around the stem of his glass. She concentrates on the ebb and flow of his breathing.

"Um," he begins, eventually. His voice seems shockingly loud. "What do you suppose they're doing right now?"

Out of nowhere, it’s Frigga's turn to groan. "That? That's something you _don't_ do," she scolds him gently. "It won't change a thing, and you'll only make yourself crazy."

Odin laughs again, a little more softly. "Okay, then. Let's talk about how soon our baby boys are going to be _driving_."

This time, he’s the one on the receiving end of a splashing.

~

There's a small, round-topped window over the tub, up under the curved line of the ceiling. It looks out onto some bits of fluffy greenery, but Loki poked his head outside earlier; the whole arrangement isn’t nearly as private as it seems. A stone stairway as old as the house itself runs right along their wall.

At the time, they'd joked about embarrassing the staff or perhaps even the occasional wayward tourist.

Now, though, they find all they’re actually embarrassing is themselves. Loki reluctantly latches the window and pulls its soft linen curtains. Thor pads out into the suite proper and turns on the air conditioning.

"I feel so inauthentic," Loki complains as he hurries out of his clothes. What he actually is, though, is nervous. His hands shake so badly that it's hard to get his pants off. Once he finally manages, he catches a foot in his underwear and almost goes down.

He can’t even laugh about it.

They're shy around each other. Even with the curtains closed it's softly light in the bathroom… and even brighter through the doorway. They don't have the shelter of a dark bedroom – or a storm - to hide behind. There isn't going to be any easy pretending, nor behaving like their bodies are on accidental autopilot.

Loki watches as Thor strips down. His brother is just as rushed and clumsy as he was.

It doesn’t really help, because before he can even fake being amused Thor is standing _right there_ in front of him, naked: close to six feet of golden, muscled beauty.

“Uh- wow,” Loki says. He can feel his own face heating; Thor’s cheeks and upper chest are flushed pink as well. Loki can’t meet his brother’s eyes… but there isn’t anywhere else that’s safe to look either; not at the flat planes of Thor’s chest, with its dusting of blondish hair. Not at his brother’s erect nipples or long, flat abs. Certainly not at the surprisingly dark curls in the vee of Thor’s thighs, or at the heavy, flushed- _oh, Jesus_. Loki wants to run and hide. He also wants to climb all over his brother, to lick every inch of Thor’s perfect, perfect body.

Instead, he covers his own face with his hands… and tries to pretend he’s not trembling.

“Loki?” Thor sounds much less self-assured than Loki might have expected, given how his brother is standing there all proud and gigantic. “Are you okay?”

“Mmm.” Loki nods into his palms. “This is _so weird_.”

Thor reaches out and takes him very lightly by the upper arms. “Yeah,” he breathes. “But I think we know how to fix it.”

~

Nothing is as easy as it looks online, and as it turns out neither of them is particularly good at it. Thor gets saliva _everywhere_ , like some sort of massive, jowly dog, and Loki bobs at the wrong time and gets slapped right in the eye with a warm, sticky penis.

Neither of them makes it more than a couple of minutes, either, which would be mortifying if they weren’t right here in it _together_.

“I think we need to practice that more,” Thor says, laughing, as they wait for the tub to fill. “Because we suck at it. And not all that literally.”

Loki snickers. It’s all true. Too, too true. “Maybe,” he suggests, “after dinner.”


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice rocks.

Frigga’s assured him it won’t be a problem – they’re good kids; they won’t let their parents down – but Odin still feels something deep inside loosen slightly when the heavy door swings open and Thor and Loki walk into the lobby. They’re in sport coats and nice slacks, polished shoes and ties. Both his sons look by turns awkward and lovely and more than a little nervous. What they _don’t_ look, for which Odin is very, very thankful, is cocky… or married. They’re brothers, and his, and he adores them. _Maybe_ , he thinks, _things really will be okay after all._

He straightens his own tie and heads over to greet them, fully intending to shake their hands – they look like men just now, in their nice clothes, and he means to treat them accordingly – but ends up wrapping them both in a big double hug anyway.

“Hi, dad,” they say in unison. “How was your nap?”

Frigga comes up behind him to collect a hug from Loki and a kiss on the cheek from Thor. “We spent too long in the pool,” she tells them. “Napping never did happen. Your poor father will be yawning by the time we’re through with our soup.”

Loki grins and ducks away. “Oh no no,” Odin says, giving his youngest a friendly little shoulder-push. “None of what your mother just said had air quotes, kiddo. Pool, shower, dinner.”

“And champagne,” Frigga adds, smiling. “We haven’t _quite_ turned into old fuddy-duddies.”

~

Tomorrow night they’ll eat in the main restaurant… one last big hurrah before their thoughts turn to packing and flying home. Tonight, they’ve made reservations to eat outdoors. The sweeping balcony (long ago the fortified ramparts, now put to much nicer and less violent use) stretches along the cliff’s edge, affording the four of them a beautiful deep twilight view out over the water below. It’s an incredibly romantic setting; most of the other diners are clearly couples. Odin’s not sure eating here is going to turn out to have been the best idea, initially, but Thor and Loki are perfect. They don’t fidget and pester one another like children; they (mostly, save for the occasionally “mm, try this!” complete with not-nearly-quick-enough fingers) don’t fawn over each other like lovers.

He wonders briefly how they’ve managed to grow into adults since lunchtime and then shuts his eyes and just goes with it.

~

“How is your room,” Frigga asks as they’re waiting for desert. Loki and Thor share a quick look.

“It’s great,” Thor says cheerfully as Loki pinks up and makes a big show of polishing an imaginary _something_ off his spoon. “I could live in the bathtub. Forever, I mean. How’s yours?”

Loki must see an opportunity… and he goes for it. “Yeah,” he chimes in, “Please. Tell us about your pool!”

As the waiter’s setting out their fruit and cheese board, Frigga sits back and smiles. Her husband and sons make plans to play in the pool tomorrow morning. “You’ll love it,” she assures her boys “It’s heavenly. But don’t forget to leave enough time in the schedule to get to Nice.”

Thor groans. “We have the next day, too.”

“Trust me,” Frigga says, ruefully. “By the next day, we’re all going to be terribly cranky.”

“Plus,” Loki points out, “we have to see the gardens. The ones here, above the castle.”

“We have gardens at home,” Thor wheedles. “Wouldn’t you rather-.”

“Oh no no,” Loki says, silencing his brother with a hand to Thor’s coat sleeve. “There are cacti. Don’t even bother trying to argue.”

~

As private pools go it’s easily big enough for the four of them. And a small army. Loki rubs his eyes – he’s awake way too early, for sure, but coming out here had been completely his idea to start with. It would have been a dick move to roll over in their soft lair of a bed and send Thor back to the main hotel alone. That, and his brother had kissed him awake with warm, insistent kisses in all sorts of places Loki’s pretty sure he’s _never_ been kissed before. It’s an experience he’d really like to revisit someday (soon) when he’s far closer to conscious. Ultimately, everything has left him feeling well-disposed towards Thor (and by extension towards his parents for bringing them both here); for once he does what’s expected of him, without complaining.

He doesn’t bitch, and he doesn’t yawn. Instead, he swims out to the infinity edge and hovers there, smiling a little sleepily out to sea.

~

Frigga reminds them (not particularly necessarily, as the historical architecture in and around Nice is lovely and Loki and Thor both know this may be the last time in their lives they’ll ever see something this amazing) that they’re here to learn something. They need to make up for what they’ve lost out on at school – yeah, no comparison – and she’s already warned them (for, yes, months now) that they’re going to have to write papers about their experiences upon their return. “You’re not just here to play in the pool,” she admonishes. Both Thor and Loki nod.

It’s an easy enough game and the two of them know exactly how to play it.

They dutifully start their visit in the Vieille Ville – the old town – where it takes _maybe_ ten minutes to turn _obligation_ to _obsession_. The buildings are decked out in a faded rainbow of Mediterranean earth tones and it seems like every third or fourth little shop boasts gelato. After they’ve eaten so many different flavors (not in one shop; in four or five… they clearly have a problem, to the extent that if they lived here it would be downright embarrassing) that they’re not hungry for lunch, the four of them walk to the Promenade de Paillon.

“This is lovely,” Frigga exclaims, looking around at all the greenery.

Loki opts not to point out that these particular beautiful gardens have nothing whatsoever to do with _history_.

Thor gets a jet of water straight up his back when one of the soaking fountains does as advertised. The shriek he lets out makes having gotten up early so, so worth it.

Eventually they find their way up to Castle Hill.

Oh, my. So, so beautiful. They’ve never seen anything like it. From this height, the post-card-quality view spills off in all directions. Loki knows he will remember being here forever.

He’s also going to remember absent-mindedly taking hold of his brother’s hand, and not realizing he’s done so until _everyone in Nice_ has had plenty of time to notice.

Surprisingly, the world doesn’t end after all. Thor just gives him a quick squeeze around the shoulders and gently disentangles their fingers. “Not here,” his brother whispers quietly. “But we’ll make time for it later. I promise.”

_I love you_ , Loki says silently into Thor’s golden hair. The world doesn’t end _this_ time, either.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vacation is winding down...

“I think I’m siding with the boys on this one, ” Frigga tells Odin as they share a drink by (well, in) the pool before dinner. “I’m all for staying here.” There isn’t time for a long swim today – they spent hours enjoying Nice, really enjoying it, and tonight they have to get _especially_ dressed up for dinner – but her feet hurt and she’s hot and a little pool time is well worth fitting in. Especially because tomorrow’s _it_ … they’ve only got one more day here before it’s time to get up early and check out and start a very, very long day of travel.

One that’s going to feel all the longer with _home_ rather than _paradise_ waiting at its end, unfortunately.

Tomorrow will be packing and grumbling and an informal dinner at the café. Interspersed, yes, with some nice things – Loki’s got that walk through the cactus gardens lined up, and then after lunch they want to visit the Musée et Site Archeologiques de Cimiez for one last look at Roman history – but it’s going to be a tough day regardless. No matter how hard they try to make it otherwise (and, yes, over the years Frigga’s heard plenty of people say they couldn’t wait to get home by the time their vacations were over; she firmly believes anyone who feels that way is taking the wrong vacations).

Odin clears his throat. “We need a plan for when we get home,” he says. He’s over at the pool’s free edge, paddling just enough to stay afloat as he looks out over the valley.

Frigga knows what he means. “When I said I’d been doing some research,” she reassures him, “I meant it. I’ve found a counselor who seems reasonably open-minded and accepting – he works a lot with families of trans kids and comes really highly-recommended. _Not_ that that’s our specific situation,” she hurries to add as she sees Odin stiffen. “I just feel like he- he must know what it’s like to really struggle and to be rejected by society in a very deep, visceral way.”

“Loki isn’t going to like it,” Odin says. He’s still looking out to sea and she suspects his son isn’t the only one with concerns. “Not after his own crappy counseling experience at school.”

She swims over to where her husband is floating and hooks both hands over the edge of the pool. The water flows over and around them. Her fingers look like roots. If only. “I thought we could go a few times ourselves before we decide whether or not it’s a good fit for the boys,” she says. “But if you don’t feel up to it, I’m willing to go by myself too.” She means it. She knows this has to be difficult for Odin in ways she can’t even begin to imagine.

“I’m going to have to learn to cope with it, aren’t I,” he concedes. “Whatever happens, it’s part of our lives now.”

Frigga smiles. She turns in the water and kisses her husband’s temple. “Remember, it’s been part of our lives a long time. Only one thing has changed… we’re talking about it.”

Odin sighs loudly. He lets his legs sink until he’s standing on the pool bottom. “It probably doesn’t seem this way,” he tells her, “and I’m sorry… but I- I just want to be sure both of them are okay. No one is going to be all right with this. _No one_.” He reaches out cover one of her hands with his own. “And Loki’s already had to deal with so much crap from the bullies at school.”

She straightens her fingers, letting his slip in between. “We’ll make it work,” she says firmly. She will. _They_ will. After all, they _have_ to.

~

Thor and Loki stop down to pick up their parents at the room this time, Loki looking thin and lovely in his dark suit and Thor looking equally handsome in grey. Thor’s hair reaches his shoulders now. He hasn’t styled it per se; it frames his face in air-dried waves, bleached to champagne and yellow on top from the sun. Loki, on the other hand, has taken the time to flatiron his; rather than the messy curls he’s sported all vacation, his hair is sleek and shiny.

When did this happen?

Frigga wonders who these two beautiful strangers are, and what they’ve done with her pudgy little children. “You two look nice,” she says instead. She makes herself smile.

They hug her carefully. She’s wearing a far nicer dress than she ever does at home and it’s sweet of them not to wrinkle it. “You, too,” Loki tells her. “And even dad,” he teases, nodding towards Odin.

Frigga shushes him. “Your father’s tired,” she points out, “and stressed. Don’t pick on him.”

“Sorry, dad,” Loki says. He takes two steps and hugs his father fiercely. “I don’t mean to be a problem. Not usually,” he huffs as Thor snorts. “I _don’t_.”

Odin wraps both arms around his son. Loki is warm and a little bony through his sharply cut suit. “I know,” he says. His voice is warm and fond, and Frigga almost wants to cry. “I know.”

~

The dining room is much more formal than the terrace. They’re dressed for it, though, even if his sons are bit overawed. The two of them are both on their best behavior, which is to say _stiffly proper_. It’s a bit of a relief to feel more like a family and less like two couples dating. Odin just wants his sons to be safe and happy, really, but it’s hard enough to adjust to how grown-up they’ve become without adding in all kinds of details about their- their _sex lives_ that he’s simply better off not knowing.

Loki is particularly fun to watch. The better part of a week spent on the French Riviera had done a lot to boost both his language studies and his confidence; Odin smiles proudly as his youngest chatters along with their waiter. Thor, he can’t help but notice, keeps an eye on his brother as though Loki is a precious Faberge egg.

Odin sighs. He needs to put this behind him, to accept the fact that Thor is going to be _his brother’s keeper_ in every conceivable way and move on, or it will drive them all crazy. _You can do this,_ he reminds himself. Because it’s not like he has any alternative.

~

Thor makes himself eat slowly. It's partially in deference to this being the kind of place where hunching over the plate and shoveling would offend the other diners (and maybe even get him asked to leave)... but on top of that the food is absolutely delicious in ways he never gets to enjoy at home. Frigga and Loki are wonderful cooks and bakers in their own right, but _eating local_ doesn't amount to quite the same when you're not farming paradise. That, and they try to eat healthy meals, especially since Odin's apparent fainting spell scared a sense of mortality into the four of them. Nothing at home is wrapped in delicate, rich pastry or dripping in butter. Both at once? Never, and also heaven.

Loki has gotten some sort of fish. While it seems to be missing the pastry Thor himself is so enjoying (from the look on Loki's face, at least), it's close enough to perfection regardless.

His brother’s lips are red and shiny in the flickering candlelight. As Loki runs a hint of pink tongue along them, collecting a few stray bits of fish Thor is hit by a powerful wave of lust he can't believe no one manages to notice. He shifts awkwardly on his chair seat and looks frantically around. It's dark outside. They're not right up against the window, so there's really nothing to see. Thor does his best to distract himself with his food instead.

"-think, Thor?" His mother's voice startles him back to the present.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly. "I was- thinking about how good this is." He holds up a forkful of perfectly roasted asparagus. And how it's totally worth ending up with _asparagus pee_ ," he admits, laughing. Hopefully that’s enough to explain away the flush he can feel all up his neck and face. "You asked me something?"

Frigga laughs. "You certainly did look like you'd gone off somewhere," she teases. "I should have known it would be the bathroom. I'd just been wondering what you'd liked most about France," she tells him. "And don’t worry… if it turns out to be something we see tomorrow, you're of course allowed to change your answer."

He actually _is_ really looking forward to the archaeology they'll be studying... almost enough to drown out the nagging dread over leaving. Not quite, but almost. He says so, too, to buy himself a little time to think of something else (other than _trying and only barely succeeding at sixty-nine-ing my brother_ ).

France. _France._ There must be something.

_Watching Loki enjoy cave art_ isn't a great choice either. "It's hard to pick just one thing," he stalls. "But- I guess driving up the coast visiting little villages?" It's a safe choice. He'd really liked the old arena at Arles, but he doesn't want to risk another battle with his brother over it. Not at dinner, especially. "It was cool to see a part of Provence that wasn't very touristy."

"I have to admit," Frigga says when he's finished, "I think my favorite thing is our pool. Here, I mean. I'm never going to forget being able to soak and swim with that amazing view."

"Mm," Odin agrees. He sets his fork down. "But I think _my_ favorite thing - and you can all laugh and tell me you don't believe me - is how we finally unveiled our big secrets. I'm serious," he insists as Loki snorts and Thor's mouth drops open. "Living two lives is incredibly draining. At least we don't have to do it in the privacy of our own home anymore."

~

They walk slowly back up the hill to their suite after dessert. And cheese. And coffee a hundred times better than they ever get at home, so much so that Loki and Frigga have vowed to find a way to brew something that at least distantly approaches it. And then a tiny, tiny bit of cognac. Both of them are full and kind of sleepy, not to mention hot in these suits in the sticky Mediterranean evening.

They stop in a doorway to loosen their ties and unbutton their dress shirts and end up kissing much longer and more enthusiastically than Thor'd really intended. When they finally call it quits and step back into the light, they're mussed and really sweating.

Loki's hair is already starting to fluff from the humidity. Thor reaches out to pet it, even though he knows doing so is going to make his brother squawk. "I can't help it," he complains as he ducks Loki's flapping, slapping hands. "I love your hair curly. I love to touch it."

~

The air is much more comfortable once they get their clothes off.

They decide, a bit ruefully, to go one at a time after last night's misadventures. Thor even manages to stop himself before the end, so they can try something else too. Loki's control is a little less precise and he does splatter Thor's chest and chin.

It doesn’t matter. What Loki lacks in technique, he more than makes up for in enthusiasm. There’s nothing he won’t try, it seems.

You won’t catch Thor complaining.

~

It's late when they pad quietly into the bathroom to wash up. They leave the lights off so they can slip into the big tub without closing the window. This time Loki lets Thor pet his hair without complaining.

They do their best not to doze off in the water as the air around them fills with tiny night sounds. It isn’t easy.


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At home, life goes on.

They tickle one another out of bed after their wakeup call. There's nothing appealing about packing, nothing at all, but Loki knows their mom is right and when Thor tries to roll back into the pillow he makes sure to tell his brother so. "We need to get as much of it done now as we can," he insists, "so we can go eat brunch and enjoy today without having it hanging over our heads. But I do know it sucks," he admits, laughing, as Thor sulks like crazy. "And I haven’t lost my mind. When we were saying our goodbyes last night, mom made me promise."

~

Packing to go home is pretty quick, it turns out... it's just about trying to make sure their various bags are roughly the same weight and managing not to choke on all the B.O. They heap their collective dirties together in the middle of their sitting room and then divvy the mess up and start stuffing. "Man," Loki teases about halfway through the pile, "you smell like an animal. And not in a good way."

"Whereas you, my darling, smell like kittens and sunshine," Thor counters, holding up a wadded pair of Loki's black boxer briefs. They're the wicking kind, made for hiking, and he has to admit his brother probably has a point. That is, he _would_ have admitted it, if it wasn’t for how Thor chooses that precise moment to face-wash him hockey style with them.

When they finally get back to packing, they have to _really_ hurry.

~

The gardens are pretty, in a desert-y sort of way that’s not at all what they’re used to from home. The sculptures are interesting, too, and the four of them take their time soaking it all in. When they get back down to the village proper, Loki sighs. “Okay,” he says to Frigga, “what do I need to do to be able to stay here and never, ever leave?”

Frigga laughs. She and Odin exchange looks, both of them grinning. “Marry a very, very rich man,” she tells Loki. “A prince, probably.”

“Why does it have to be _him_ ,” Thor complains. He doesn’t want his brother marrying anyone, even if it gives him (them?) a chance to stay here. “Why can’t _I_ be the one who marries the rich prince?”

“What, and swoop in to save the day, like we’re living in some ridiculous fairytale?” Loki cocks an eyebrow. “Look at us,” he says, “and tell me: which one makes the better sugarbaby?”

“How about neither,” Frigga says without giving Thor time to answer. “And no fighting on our last day here. Both of you promised.”

They had, over brunch. Twice, actually; once just because, and again when Loki had slapped Thor’s hand in a dispute over the berry syrup. Loki sighs again. “Okay, the farm it is,” he concedes. “But I think we’ll be needing a hot tub, then.”

Odin smiles at Frigga. “Seems like a fair enough trade,” he says, shrugging. “I’d hate to lose either of my boys forever.”

Thor wraps both arms around his wriggly brother. “Oh, don’t worry; that won’t happen.”

~

The ruins are pocket-sized, especially in comparison to Pompeii, but there are Roman baths and everyone is kind of worn out anyway. Very worn out, really. It’s a neat site, and the signboards give them one last chance to really practice their French. All in all, they’re pleased with their visit.

When they get back to the hotel the four of them enjoy a final swim in Frigga and Odin’s pool, even though doing so is going to mean flying with bags of wet bathing suits in their luggage. On the way home, it’s all kind of _whatever_ anyway.

Once they’ve had their fill of the water, they order room service for dinner – they’ve packed their dress clothes, and no one really feels like celebrating – and eat it quietly together on the terrace.

Thor and Loki had planned (well in advance of the trip, before either of them could possibly have guessed what might happen) to _make good use_ of every last second of their private bedroom time together. Now, though, with tomorrow practically here - and some of the urgency gone thanks to the whole _big disclosure_ \- they find they’re not all that much in the mood after all. They stay down at the big suite, chatting with their parents and looking out at the harbor, until close to bedtime before making their slow, sad way back to their own rooms.

After a little kissing and cuddling, they curl up together and try to sleep.

~

Morning comes far, far too early. It’s barely light when they start the pilgrimage back down to the rental car. Everyone is dejected. They don’t bother looking around as they head for the Nice airport.

~

Nothing particularly bad happens travel-wise. Their luggage even gets where it’s supposed to be going.

Loki does have a full-on panic attack on the transatlantic flight, the first time he’s ever had one bad enough that he feels like he might be dying. Thor holds his hand and quietly shushes him for what seems like hours while, all around them, people are reading and sleeping. If he hadn’t already been in love forever, Loki knows this is the point where he would be.

By the time they finally get home, more than a day (plus the time change) after they’d left Nice, it’s almost like the whole vacation never happened. Like it was a dream.

A nice one, sure, but still…

~

It takes all four of them a solid week to shake off the jet lag, and it’s another ten days after that before Thor and Loki catch up on their missed schoolwork and things start to get back to normal.

By that point October is right around the corner… the first leaves are changing, pumpkins are ripening, people with school spirit are gearing up for homecoming. All around them farmers prepare for the last harvest of the season. Everything is cider and football, short days and cold nights. It’s nice to see their friends again. They do their best to accept that and ignore all the crap that comes with it.

~

Thor had been given special dispensation to miss the start of the season and yet still play. He hasn’t got any real competition, so it’s probably not the big deal the coach tries to make it.

Loki delivers on his threat, which isn’t anywhere near as ominous now that they’re _out_ at home and are no longer struggling quite so hard to find time alone together: he quits the marching band. He’s _so done_ with the music program. One of the teachers convinces him to keep playing, though; he lets her (along with Thor, and their parents) talk him into taking private lessons.

It’s nice to keep playing, actually, even if he never admits it.

~

For their birthdays, they get their learners’ permits. For Christmas, Odin gets them a car. It’s an old beater, one he tells them they’ll have to share between the two of them.

That’s okay. They go most places together anyway.

~

Odin gamely joins in when Frigga meets with Dr. Banner. Once he gets past the initial hurdle - _I’m here because my adopted son, the one I lied to all his life, is in a sexual relationship with my birth son_ still isn’t something that goes down (or comes out of his mouth) easily – he finds he’s pleased with the man’s gentle approach and matter-of-fact attitude.

Later on, after the three of them have had time to strategize together, Odin and Frigga have another family meeting. They’re both a little surprised when Loki and Thor do agree to come to the next appointment with them.

It’s tough. There may be some cajoling and promising of brownie sundaes on the ride to his office. Later, as they’re getting acquainted, Dr. Banner asks to spend some time with each of the boys solo. Loki is especially reluctant but Thor agrees to go first and comes out smiling; ultimately, Loki does agree to take his turn as well.

“He wanted to be sure what we had going on between us was consensual,” Loki explains in the car on the way home. “At least, that’s what he asked me about.”

“Me too,” Thor agrees. “I thought it was going to be creepy, but- I guess it wasn’t.”

It’s kind of nice to have someone to talk to, they agree, and that’s even after they’ve collected on the sundaes.

~

For the first few sessions, Dr. Banner reminds all four of them that things change quickly and often, and that they need to be careful not to limit their options. He checks in with them several times early on, alone and together, to make sure they’re still where they want to be.

_Thor must be more convincing_ , Loki thinks. Everyone accepts his brother’s assurances quickly, but he’s still getting pestered about it months later. “Thor is very assertive,” Frigga tells him when he complains to her about it. “We want to be completely sure he’s respecting your feelings.” She gives him a hug. “It’s never wrong,” she reminds him, “to be too careful.”

It does make some sort of sense, put that way.

Loki’s sick of it anyway.


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things go a little sideways...

Loki is the better driver.

Their parents had already made them wait half a year longer than the law requires before getting their permits, on the theory (or excuse, depending on which side of the debate you inhabit) that the two of them’d had more than enough going on thanks to the trip to Europe. And when you get right down to it, neither Thor nor Loki would have traded five minutes of their vacation for the chance to drive earlier. They have their bikes, and ultimately there’s not really anywhere worth going around here.

The two of them would rather spend their time holed up somewhere together anyway.

And regardless, once they got started behind the wheel, they both caught on quickly enough. They got their probationary licenses as fast as anyone else did.

Thor might have a little better mastery of the raw skills, thanks to all those hours mowing with the tractor, but that’s actually part of the problem; he’s confident and cocky and always going a little faster than he should be. Loki, by comparison, drives a bit like somebody’s grandmother. He’s cautious and overly prepared and – according to Thor, and their friends – beyond ridiculous.

Still, he’s the better driver. Even Thor knows it. Everyone does.

~

“I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Frigga tells Dr. Banner. She and Odin come in every other week, more often if they need to. The whole family shares an appointment once a month; the boys cooperate but clearly don’t enjoy being put through it. They’re all-too-obviously not at a point where they’re _ready to work on their stuff_ yet. Getting them into the office periodically at least gives Dr. Banner a chance to keep an eye on how they’re doing, though. It’s better, the three adults agree, than trying to force them into showing up more often and by so doing scaring them off entirely. “Loki’s taking everything _too_ well.” Frigga shakes her head slowly. “Finding out about the adoption, being stripped of his - their secrets, dealing with the bullying… eventually it’s bound to throw him. Don’t you think so?” She looks back and forth, from Odin to Dr. Banner to Odin. “I feel like something just has to happen.”

“Loki’s resilient,” her husband assures her. “He’s not as bold and brash as Thor, but that doesn’t mean we should confuse his gentleness with frailty.”

Frigga sighs. “I hope you’re right. They’re my babies. I worry.”

Odin smiles, a little sadly. “Trust me, we both do.”

~

“I should have _been_ there,” Loki insists over and over and over, keeping a white-knuckled grip on his own arms and rocking. Odin checks compulsively to see that his son’s seatbelt is fastened. “If I’d been there, none of this would have happened.”

“Shh,” Odin tries to soothe. He’s so far out of his element here, but Frigga is already at the hospital. She’d been at the office when the call came, one of the rare times she’d had to stay late to finish something, and that had put her right around the corner from the place. “I’m sure there’s nothing you could have done.”

“You don’t understand,” Loki wails. The sound echoes off the inside of the car, so loud it’s painful.

_You don’t either_ , Odin thinks. He’d been down in his home office working on a presentation; Loki had been in the bedroom the twins invariably share – they don’t bother hiding that sort of thing anymore, not from their parents, and it makes him a little sad to think of all the crazy things the two of them did to cover their tracks before – nursing (also known as _sleeping off_ ) yet another migraine.

~

The doctor – the boys’ internist, not Dr. Banner – says migraines are common at the twins’ age. The tendency towards them runs in families. It doesn’t run in Odin’s family, but he carefully avoids pointing that out; he doesn’t want to do anything that might come across as rubbing in Loki’s _difference_.

Dr. Banner says Loki’s headaches are probably stress-related. Loki blames them on the endless schoolwork. Whenever Odin closes his eyes he pictures the many challenges his youngest has to deal with… every bit of ugliness and pain, all rolled into a single lump that’s trying to drill itself out of Loki’s skull just below the left eyebrow.

He doesn’t point _that_ out either.

~

The EMTs are still there when Odin and Loki get to the emergency room. They sprawl in the quiet room finishing up their paperwork. Odin looks at the pictures of the car while Loki talks to quietly to no one and keeps on rocking.

“It’s not your fault,” Odin tells his son for the umpteenth time. The EMTs hum and nod. “You weren’t even there.”

“ _EXACTLY_ ,” Loki roars. Everyone jumps. People sitting out in the hallway studiously pretend they’re not listening… except the furniture rattled. There’s no way they missed it. “I wasn’t there,” Loki repeats, a little less loudly. “But I should have been.”

~

Loki has an answer for everything they try throwing at him.

“The street sign came right through the windshield,” they say, “like a guillotine. Anyone in the passenger seat – meaning you – would have been killed instantly.”

“I’m the better driver,” Loki tells them. “He always lets me drive. So I wouldn’t have been sitting there. And I wouldn’t have _hit_ the sign to begin with.”

He just wouldn’t have. Ever

“Loose gravel,” they point out. “An accident. It could have happened to anyone.”

“I’m careful,” Loki insists. “It wouldn’t have happened to me.”

It’s his fault. They might as well just shut the eff up and believe him.

~

Thor is pale and bloody, hair a mess and blue hospital gown rumpled.

Neither one of them has been here to the ED since Odin’s incident (and, before that, Loki’s fall). Even so, time has done exactly nothing to dull Loki’s powerful, visceral memory of the place’s smell. That, plus way his head is throbbing, leaves him intensely nauseated. 

“Isosorry,” his brother says, slurring more than a little. Thor is sluggish and drugged, face covered in tiny clotted cuts, and Loki has to lean in close to understand. “I dint meanto wreckta car. I dint meanto scareyoo. Isorry.”

“Shh,” Loki tells his brother. “It’s my fault,” he says again. He’s going to keep saying it until someone listens. “I should have been there.”

“Nobaby,” Thor insists. “My- myault. Stop,” his brother adds as Loki can’t hold back the tears any longer. “Doncry. Iloveyou.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” a shorter (and compared to his family, who isn’t?), heavyset man with close-cropped, greying hair says from the doorway. “But this area is _family only_. I’m going to have to ask you to wait out-.”

“No,” Loki cuts in. There’s a time when he would have cared what strangers thought. There may well come such a time again. Right now, though, he just wants to be here… to take care of Thor. He swallows, hard, past the lump in his throat that threatens to suffocate him. “I _am_ family,” he insists. “I’m his brother.”


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As quickly as things go well, they can go badly.

No matter how many times she runs back over it all in her head, Frigga still can't quite believe how _fast_ everything has unraveled. The house feels like a war zone, and nothing she tries - nothing either of them does - seems to move any of them so much as an _inch_ towards fixing it.

With each passing day the trip to Europe, the _vacation of a lifetime_ they took just a few short months ago, feels more like a dream.

Like something that never, ever happened.

~

The car hadn't been worth fixing. It hadn't cost much to begin with, and Thor'd managed to do quite the job on it. He'd gotten his license suspended anyway; even though the accident had been at least as much bad luck as it had been wrongdoing, a probationary license is a probationary license and rules are laws are rules. Frigga and Odin had worried at first about how Loki might take losing the car, but it had never once come up in conversation.

The boys weren’t really going anywhere, either.

Thor's injuries had, fortunately, turned out to be largely minor: a mild concussion without any obvious lingering effects, lots of small cuts and large bruises, and a single broken bone in one hand. Even so, the whole thing had put a quick end to his football season.

_No football_ , Frigga supposes, _must have meant too much free time somehow_. Which brings her to the part where things speed up and begin to blur.

~

She'd gotten the story third- or fourth- hand; a call from the principal's office, right in the middle of her workday. As best she can tell, Thor and Loki - familiarity and a string of bored luck making them uncharacteristically incautious and lazy - had been kissing under the stairs in a seldom-used back hallway.

Right about the time a few of Thor's formerly-fellow players had jogged through.

There had been some catcalling and some accusations.

Not just Odinson, but _Odinsons_. Sex. Scandal. _Incest_.

Thor, caught between lying and telling the truth, had evidently been way too free with latter. "He's not my brother! He's adopted," Thor had apparently explained. Too quickly, too loudly. From what she’d been told, he'd also shoved Loki away.

Thor is still denying that part outright, whereas Loki claims his _not brother_ had hit him.

Whatever had actually transpired, all of them - Loki, Thor, the three football players who'd started it - had earned a week’s detention… at which point unkind words may have been spoken. Or something.

In the end, both Loki and one of the other boys had been suspended.

~

That had been a month ago. Over a month, really.

Loki still isn't speaking to Thor.

Thor has long since given up being angry and is moping around the house like a huge, sad puppy. On top of everything with his brother, it’s hard for him to write or type with his hand still in its brace. He's frustrated and hurt and crying, all of which conspires to tug Frigga's heartstrings.

He won't quite apologize, though. Didn’t, hasn’t, doesn't.

Even if they were taking sides, which both Frigga and Odin have been – and are - trying their best _not_ to do, that alone would make it hard to side completely against his little brother.

~

Loki has moved out of the bedroom again. This time he’s taken up residence, more or less, in what must once have been the second floor parlor. Since his arrival the room looks like a little black tornado tore through it. Loki won't let anyone in, either; whenever one of them tries to force the issue, he shoves past the offender and runs outside. The last time that had happened, he was barefoot and in nothing but shorts. While there’s no longer any snow, even in the perpetually shaded parts of the yard, the great outdoors is cold and wet and muddy.

Thinking of what might have happened is a little scary.

Frigga and Odin stop pushing, to be on the safe side.

~

"I'm at my wits' end," she complains to Dr. Banner at the start of week- seven, it must be. Nothing she's tried has worked, not even a little bit. And if she bites her nails any more aggressively - something she hasn't done since the twins were babies - she's going to be left with stumps instead of fingers.

Odin nods enthusiastically. "If anyone had told me a year ago that I'd be upset to find that my sons weren't romantically involved with each other - even with _anymore_ tacked on the end - I would have sworn that person was way beyond crazy." He scrubs both hands over his face, hard. "But now I just want my boys back." His voice breaks. "I want them to love each other."

"It sounds like they still have strong, strong feelings for one another," Dr. Banner observes.

Frigga huffs. "Right. They want to kill each other."

"No," Odin corrects her. "Thor wants to make up. It's Loki who's still furious."

"He doesn't want to make up all that much if he won't even swallow his pride and _say he's sorry_ ," she snaps back.

"Odin, Frigga," Dr. Banner chides softly as they trade glares hostile enough to be more typical of their children. "You can't fight their battles for them." He nudges the tissues towards the far edge of the table. "Your sons need you. On top of that, you need each other." He waits until they’ve settled back into their seats and are watching him nervously. “Your family is strong,” he reminds them. “All of you can and will get through this.”

~

“I’m sorry,” Frigga says first. She really, really is. This isn’t her husband’s fault. It’s not really anyone’s fault, actually… at least, she can’t lay the blame on anyone who lives in her household. “I just feel so helpless.”

“That’s it exactly,” Odin agrees. “And, um, I’m sorry too.”

Dr. Banner smiles at them both. The corners of his eyes crinkle. _He has such a kind face,_ Frigga thinks. It suits him. “We’ll work this out,” he says. “Together. I promise. Just- please try your best to be patient.”

They each nod. “So,” Frigga asks, “what do we do? Because I don’t know about you two, but I’m so out of ideas it’s not funny.”

~

“Loki?” Frigga knocks lightly on the doorframe of her younger son’s makeshift lair. The door itself is cracked open a couple of inches. She doesn’t try to move it further. “May I come in,” she asks. She wants to treat him like an adult, no matter how he’s acting.

“No,” Loki says flatly, from somewhere behind the door.

“Please,” she tries again. “Just for a minute?”

She can hear things shifting and thudding. “It’s a dump in here,” Loki warns. “Gimme a minute.” When he appears at the door, his expression is pinched. He has big, dark circles under his eyes. “Can I help you?”

It’s the perfect opening. “Actually,” she says brightly, because _fake it ‘til you make it_ , “you can. I’m going to bake some bread, and I could really, really use your help with the kneading.”

His eyes narrow.

“No tricks,” she tells him. “Just bread. Whole wheat bread, with cranberries. Please?”

Loki scuffs his toes back and forth across the narrow strip of floor between the doorframe and the door’s edge. He looks at the door, at his foot; everywhere but her face. “Yeah,” he says at last, his voice heavy. Defeated. “Okay. Just let me put some clothes on.”


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Across the great divide...

Ten weeks, going on eleven. It’s full-on spring now, warm days and milder nights and things greening up everywhere. Thor’s out of his brace, although he’s still diligently doing the exercises he’d been given at the start of his Physical Therapy sessions. They seem to be helping, in that he has most of his range of motion back. He still gets what seems like a lot of pain, though, and nothing appears to be touching it.

The only time his hand feels even close to good is when he’s actually _at_ PT, when he’s finished all his exercises and is reclining in the dark listening to the tiny clicks and buzzes of the TENS unit. Somehow the sharp little jabs of electricity across his skin must pull his body’s attention away from the aches and pains lurking just below the surface… the lasting hurt that hides in his bones.

It’s only then that he can let go and relax completely.

_What I need_ , he thinks as he lies on the table, motionless except for a rhythmic twitch where his thumb is keeping time with the current, _is a machine like this for my brain_.

Something to pull his mind’s attention away from- from Loki.

~

“But I _love_ him,” he’d complained to his mother just that morning as he’d helped her unload the groceries. Thor hasn’t yet been cleared for anything _heavy duty_ , and he does realize it’s going to be quite some time before he can start the slow process of trying to get back in shape for one last season of football. Sitting around doing nothing is so boring it makes him ill, though, and his doctor has assured him that small things like this are okay. He and his mother compromise; he takes the heavier bags, rather than leaving them all for her to carry, but he makes sure to do the hardest work with his good hand. “I can’t think of anything else. I can’t think at all.” He’d blinked back a few unwelcome tears. “This is killing me.”

It is. Thor’s barely keeping up in school. He can’t sleep. He’s lost about ten pounds more than _losing muscle mass thanks to being laid up after an accident_ explains. He can’t stand being alone with his memories, but he hasn’t got the mental energy to deal with people.

That, and being around people sucks because he can’t stop comparing everyone else to Loki.

Everyone else can’t stop coming up short.

“I- I just don’t understand why he hates me,” he’d gone on when she’d just smiled and picked up another two bags of groceries. “I just want him back. I’ll do anything.” He simply needs to know what Loki’s- looking for? Expecting?

“I know, honey,” his mother had told him. “And _hates_ is an awfully strong word. He’s hurt, and he’s angry. You need to give your brother time.”

They don’t _have_ time. All around them their fellow juniors are looking at colleges; starting down what will be the paths to their respective futures. For all Thor knows Loki is doing the same… his brother could even have picked an institution all the way across the country (that’s the most Thor can even begin to stomach; the idea that his brother might be planning to go back to Europe alone and stay there is just too much for him to cope with). When he does sleep Thor invariably dreams that he wakes up to find Loki gone forever.

It feels so very, very real that it wrecks the next day completely.

Every. Single. Time.

“Isn’t there _anything_ I can _do_ ,” he’d asked (yet again) as the two of them had trudged up the back steps, the steep ones that connect the long kitchen hallway to the grassy area beyond the end of the driveway. They’d been making their fourth trip… their fifth, maybe… and Thor’d felt the sweat running freely down his neck and chest.

As they’d made their way into the kitchen proper, Frigga had sighed. She’d set her bags down alongside the bottom cabinets, keeping an eye and a hand on each to ensure that nothing was about to tip over and crash to the floor, before pausing to answer. “Have you tried _talking_ to him,” she’d asked Thor then. “Because I do think that’s where you’re going to have to start, as much as you may not want to.”

~

“I believe Thor when he says he really does hope to mend their relationship,” Frigga tells Odin. “I do. But he doesn’t seem to know where to begin, and I don’t feel it’s smart for me to be doing all the thinking for him.”

They both turn to look at Dr. Banner. “What’s your take on things,” Frigga asks. “Is there something we could be doing better? Because this sure isn’t working.”

Dr. Banner takes his wire-framed glasses off and spends a long moment pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “I normally stress the importance of spending quality alone time with feuding siblings,” he tells the two of them. He eases his glasses back into place. “But I know you’re both doing that already.”

Odin and Frigga both nod. Frigga’s been trying to spend an hour a day with each of her boys – it’s not always feasible, sure, but she normally comes close and it’s clearly helped strengthen her own bonds with them – and Odin has taken to working in the yard with Loki or Thor on alternating days. “That part’s been great,” Odin tells Dr. Banner. “Really. I’ve come to really treasure the time I spend with either of them. But none of it seems to have accomplished anything,” he complains sadly, “when it comes to the way things are – okay, _aren’t_ \- going between them.”

“I’m happy to talk with either - or both - of them,” Dr. Banner offers, “if you think you can get them to come see me again.”

Frigga smiles and shakes her head. “For that to happen,” she tells him, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to start giving out ponies.”

~

“Why,” Loki asks. “I don’t _want_ to talk about _my situation_ with Dr. Banner. He’ll just tell me I need to get over myself.” He looks at the flour-smudged kitchen floor. “You’re too young to die of a broken heart,” he singsongs. “That’s what he’ll say. I’m fine, mom. Just- just leave it.”

Frigga wipes her hands on her apron and reaches up to cup one under his sharp chin. “Look at me,” she coaxes. She gives his face a gentle nudge. “Please?”

He does. He’s frowning, sure, but that’s not enough to hide the fact that he’s on the edge of tears. “Hm?”

“Oh, sweetie.” She pulls her baby boy into a warm, floury hug. “Thor doesn’t know your heart is broken. He thinks you hate him.”

“He’s stupid,” Loki tells her. “I can’t fix stupid.”

“No, not stupid,” she corrects. “He’s stubborn. Actually - and I’m sure this comes as a big surprise - you both are.”


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long row to hoe.

Dr. Banner warns both of them to stay out of it. "Listen to your sons, talk to them, make time for both Thor and Loki," he advises, "but don't indulge the sort of behavior that's making the house a battleground. It's your home, and your rules. You’re right to enforce them."

Neither Frigga nor Odin is sure what he’s suggesting is even possible… not the way the boys are acting. "They’re under no obligation to talk," Dr. Banner agrees when they say so, "but that doesn't mean they can't be civil. It also doesn't mean you're running a diner. In the long run this will help," he assures them, his expression soft and sympathetic in the face of their weak protests. "Give it a try. I think you’ll be glad you did."

~

He's right about one thing, at least: Frigga is getting very tired of running a short-order kitchen. She's been especially busy at work recently, much more so than usual, and getting stuck serving multiple meals in a thankless attempt to cater to the whims of a group of menfolk who refuse to spend time together is really starting to wear on her.

That, and Odin has another business trip coming up shortly. If her husband leaves her to deal with this crap alone, she may have to- yeah, no. It just won’t work. Not the way everyone is (not) getting along presently.

Whatever else happens, they – as a family, because they still _are_ a family - do need to reach a point where things are more manageable.

It’s a low bar. She hopes against hope they can jump it.

~

"Okay," Odin says as the boys stand at opposite ends of the den with their backs to one another. If it wasn't so sad, and so frustrating, it would be hilarious; Thor and Loki are mirror images of one another, their arms folded stiffly, high across their chests, and their jaws set.

Frigga would give - well, not _anything_ , no, but a lot - to get a picture of them. Maybe if her twins could see just how truly twinned they (still) are, they would at least consider coming to their respective senses.

Or not. She knows them.

"Here's the deal," Odin explains, with Frigga's hand resting lightly on his forearm. "We're going to dine together again, from now on, as a family. You don't have to speak with one another if you don't wish to, but I do have to ask you to remember your manners." He studies the two of them for a minute. "No talking through us, no scenes at the table, and if you want something you _ask_ for it. No one gets to lunge for the butter or pounce on the salt." Frigga gives his arm a quick squeeze. She knows this isn't easy, despite how he’s trying his best to make light of it. "Is that clear?"

"Thor," Frigga prompts.

"Yeah," Thor says, like the word is being dragged out of him.

"Yessir," Loki chimes in, sharp and clipped, before anyone has to prod him.

"Good," Odin says brightly. "I look forward to seeing you both at dinner."

~

It can't be that simple. It just can't.

Frigga is so tense as she gets their meal together that she accidentally slips with one of the knives and just about stabs herself.

This is ridiculous. She knows it. _Breathe_ , she orders herself. Odin will be right there with them, and Dr. Banner's no farther than a phone call. They can do this.

She's extra careful to make something each of the twins likes. It's not a good day to play inadvertent favorites.

~

Odin has Thor set the table. Frigga drafts Loki to help plate things up in the kitchen. Family-style pass-the-bowl dining is undoubtedly too much to ask for- yet. They'll be lucky to escape without something broken, frankly.

She and Odin make sure the Thor sets out the cheap dishes. There’s no such thing as being too careful.

~

Odin takes his usual seat at the head of the table. Frigga sits opposite him, leaving the long sides for the boys to find their way around. Thor and Loki sit at a rough diagonal, not straight across from one another like they used to. Still, they're both here. They're both sitting quietly. She'll take it.

When no one else picks up the slack (and there is a lot of slack for picking), Odin makes pointless small talk about his day. In turn, Frigga asks him if he's excited about his upcoming trip back to Hawaii. He frowns and says he doesn't think it will be the same without everyone there. "I think Europe spoiled me," he says quietly. "All alone, there's no way I'll have that kind of fun."

Frigga hums. "I don't know, though," she speculates. "It's Hawaii."

"Maybe," Odin suggests tentatively, "some other time you guys can all come with me." He looks around the table, as though Thor and Loki weren't both staring intently at their food. "I'd really enjoy that. How about you?"

"Um, sure," Thor mutters when Frigga clears her throat.

"Good," she says. It's difficult to keep everything she's feeling out of her voice. "And what about you, Loki?"

The room is very, very quiet. As far as she can tell they've all stopped breathing. Outside, there’s a bird singing.

"Maybe," Loki finally concedes, and Frigga exhales slowly and silently. "We can talk about it when it gets closer."

She holds her breath again, then, but nothing really happens. Thor picks up his fork and spears a big hunk of sweet potato. "Mm," he says through a mouthful of it. "Thanks, mom. This is tasty."

~

Both twins go completely without condiments and seasoning, but they get through the meal with the dishes, glassware, and windows intact. It’s a small victory, sure, but it’s the first Frigga’s seen in months now… small or not, it’s well worth savoring.

~

Odin asks the boys to clear the table. He’s a little surprised when they do.

Thor – accidentally, as far as Odin can see – brushes up against Loki’s shoulder as he reaches across the table to collect Frigga’s silverware.

Loki stops for a moment. He shuts his eyes and- well, it’s more of a _shiver_ than anything else. Odin looks quickly away before his son can catch him watching.

~

Frigga sends Thor out with the garbage. While he’s doing that, she asks Loki to stay and help load the dishwasher. She pretends not to notice when her precious baby starts silently crying.

~

“So,” Dr. Banner asks them, “how are things going? Did you try any of my suggestions?”

Odin and Frigga share a look. “Better than we expected,” Frigga admits, and Odin nods. “And yes, we did.”

“I was sure they’d fight,” Odin says. “I would have put money on it… but they really haven’t.” He shrugs. “I think Loki does want to mend things. When he thinks nobody’s looking, he’s- well, I think he’s still got it bad for his brother. I don’t feel like it’s my place to push them together, though.”

“Right,” Dr. Banner agrees. “They need the space to sort this out for themselves. Together.” He smiles at them. “You’ve doing really well, I promise. There aren’t a lot of parents out there who would be handling this so nicely.”

Odin shrugs again. “We love them,” he says, and Frigga hums her agreement. “What could we do besides- besides our best?”

“All I can say,” Dr. Banner assures them, “is that your sons are awfully lucky.”


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Broken bridges take lots of rebuilding.

Two weeks later, Frigga and Odin have orchestrated a rather chilly détente. The twins show up at mealtime and do their before- (and after-) dinner chores unprompted. Night after night they can be engaged in conversation and will make small talk with both parents; they ask Odin about his upcoming trip and Frigga about her coworkers, and they each take time to listen to the answers.

It’s almost like normal, except that they still – even if it’s politely and discretely now, compared to a few weeks ago - won’t speak to one another.

Eventually Frigga decides she simply can’t take it anymore. Odin’s trip is less than three weeks away, right around the end of the school year, and something needs to give or her head may just explode.

“Loki,” she calls out as he drops his backpack in the hallway and hurries past her into the yard. Thor is still favoring one hand, spending more time inside than usual and sticking to the things that move only legs and feet – like running, which should help avoid such an insurmountable hill to climb at the start of next season – when outdoors. Sometimes Frigga wonders how much of it is really still the accident and how much of it is- well, other things.

Either way, Thor’s absence from the yard leaves Loki free to spend as much time gardening as his heart desires.

It’s undeniably good for the garden, and maybe even good for Loki, but it isn’t doing a thing to bring her boys closer to any sort of peace.

“ _Loki_ ,” she tries again, raising her voice more than enough to cover the distance between them. The whole business is beyond frustrating.

This time her youngest whips around, turning so quickly he nearly falls. He has his ear buds in, white wires dangling; it’s no wonder he hadn’t heard her earlier. “Mm? Sorry,” he says as he pulls the buds free, first one and then the other. “Did you say something?”

Frigga hurries a few steps to catch up with her son. She feels a little guilty for jumping to conclusions, although the yelling itself wasn’t unwarranted. “Do you have a moment?”

Loki’s eyebrows pull together into a worried peak. “Um, yeah. I mean, sure. Is everything okay?”

She walks with him out into the yard. “Look,” she says. “I’ve tried my best to be patient, but I’m only human. Is this how things are going to be until you go off to college?”

His face closes up a little. She thinks he may try to _play dumb_ , but he really doesn’t. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I really don’t.”

“Is this how you _want_ everything to be,” she tries instead. “Are you happy?”

Loki sighs. He opens his mouth and closes it once and then again. His shoulders droop forwards; he’s curling in upon himself. “No,” he says quietly, his voice very, very small. “I’m not happy. This sucks. I want things to be okay again.”

Frigga feels a big surge of- something. It could almost be elation, it could be definitely be fear. Both, maybe. Probably.

“What do you think you need, then,” she asks carefully, “to get yourself started in that direction?”

Loki’s expression hardens. He lets out a sharp breath, a derisive huff. “Well, for _starters_ , maybe you can wave your magic wand and make my big oaf of a- make _Thor_ like me. Again. If he ever did.”

_Oh, honey_ , she thinks, _you have that already. You have it now, and you’ve always had it_. That’s the wrong thing to say, though, especially without talking to Thor first. Instead she spreads her arms in a welcoming gesture. “Come here,” she suggests, “and hug your old mother.”

Loki does and does, like he means it. He doesn’t try to pull away, either; he just stands there with his arms wrapped around her and his chin resting on the top of her head. She brushes one hand gently up and down the knotted muscles along his spine, over and over and over.

Even so it isn’t until he starts to shake, his breath coming in wet gasps, that she realizes he’s crying.

~

“Oh, hi, mom,” Thor says when she knocks softly on his half-open bedroom door. “Come in,” he adds, shuffling around until he’s sitting on the side of his bed rather than burrowed into his pillows. “Please.”

“Your brother misses you,” she tells him. Thor favors blunt honesty; there’s no point in taking the long way ‘round with him. He’s simply never been fond of a good Loki-style puzzle. Well, except for the puzzle that _is_ Loki. “He wants things to be better. Do you think you can be the bigger man,” she asks, “if that’s what it takes, and offer up an apology?”

Thor frowns. “He knows I’m sorry,” he complains. “None of it matters, not to him.”

“I’m not sure I’d be so certain of that if, I were you,” Frigga starts. No, wrong way. She tries again: “Okay, maybe that’s not quite fair. I probably _would_ be certain,” she assures him, “but then I’d be wrong, you know?”

“Stop talking in circles,” Thor grumbles. “Just tell me what you want from me.”

“And,” she prompts.

He sighs. “And I’ll try to- to let it happen.”

Frigga studies his face for so long that her eyes start to water. “You mean that,” she asks him. The last thing she needs right now is to start building a bridge, only to have him take it out (and level the world around it, as far as the eye can see) with mortar rounds and napalm.

He shuts his book and sets it aside, “I do.” He shrugs. “Fine. I miss Loki terribly. This is worse than having him gone, knowing he’s here every single day and yet not being able to hug him. Not being able to talk to him. I think back to a few months ago and- and… I don’t know, really. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why he’s given up on me.”

She sits beside him on the bed, slowly, so he has time to adjust as the mattress shifts and bounces. “ _Did_ you hit him,” she asks. She has to know. It matters. “That day, I mean. The one where you-.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” he says sharply. “Don’t say it. And no. I- I was startled. The whole thing caught me off-guard. I pushed him back, I guess because I stupidly thought we wouldn’t look quite so guilty with a foot or two between us, and let go of him. He did fall,” he tells her. “He lost his balance. It’s my fault,” he adds, quickly, “but- no. I never hit him. I haven’t since we were kids, really. I would never try to hurt my brother. But he doesn’t believe me.”

He isn’t wrong. Right now, Frigga knows, Loki is skittish and distrustful. She takes a deep breath. “I guess I can only hope, then, that when the moment is right you’ll recognize it.”

“Me too,” he agrees. “Me, too.”


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doors and windows...

Loki glances at his phone (his parents got him one of his own, now that he and his brother are _at odds_ … it's still just a flip-phone, nothing special, but it makes a nice clock and he kind of likes holding it). He's pleased to see he’s made it three-quarters of the way through his trigonometry homework and lunch isn't even halfway over. Excellent. The more work he gets done at school, the less he has to finish up at home and the freer he is to spend his evenings as he sees fit.

For another week, that is, at which point the school year will be behind him. Normally Loki looks forward to summer, and he certainly won't miss this dump even now, but this year he's- well, he’s not sure what to expect, really.

~

One of the consequences - he's not quite sure if it's _unfortunate_ or not - of having spun out of Thor's orbit into the dark void between the stars is that he's out of reach of his friends (their friends) as well. Sif is still pleasant enough, but she's not in any of his classes and they rarely see one another. Loki can't really picture a scenario in which the two of them might naturally hang out together. No, if she's at the farm it's to visit Thor. That, and Fandral and Hogun are typically tagging along with her.

Tony never came by to start with; Thor normally went (goes?) to his house. Everyone does. Everyone, that is, except Loki. Not that Tony would care if he showed up, probably, but going there without Thor feels too weird and Loki just can’t bring himself to do it.

Volstagg graduated last spring and opted for trade school. He's still around town, and he did make it to a few of the football games this past season, but he has a job now and they pretty much never see him. At least, Loki never does. Thor may. Who knows? Loki no longer bothers playing at being his brother's keeper.

~

So, when the bright clatter of a tray at the far end of his table intrudes on the solitude and almost breaks Loki's concentration, he doesn't even bother looking up. Whoever it is, he or she is doubtless here for the space and not for the company.

"Hey," a girl says a little too loudly. "Amora's back. Did you hear? Loki?"

"Mmph?" Loki blinks up at- yeah. She's one of the cheerleaders. She has a name and he probably should know it. "Um, no," he says. "Why would I?" He and Amora are so much a thing of the past, it's almost like none of it ever happened. And he's fine with that. Beyond fine.

The girl glares down at him like he's said something horrible. Like he's something she wants to squish under the sole of her sandal. "It figures a douchebag like _you_ wouldn't do the decent thing and help out with your son."

_His what?_ It takes Loki far longer than it should to put all the pieces together. "Excuse me," he says stiffly, "but I don't have any children. Whoever might have gotten Amora pregnant," _while she was busy pretending to be my girlfriend and robbing my friends and family_ , he leaves off, because he has no interest in getting into an argument, "I can guarantee it wasn't me."

"Yeah," says one of the halfbacks from over the girl's shoulder. "Didn't _you_ hear? This creep can only get it up for his big, buff fag of a _brother_."

Loki's out of his chair in a flash. He hears the table skid and something wet-sounding crash to the floor, but he's _not here_ anymore. His brain doesn't really process it.

He swings with his whole body, the way Thor's always told him to. His fist connects hard with the halfback’s face. The guy staggers back.

What feels like hours later, Loki feels the sickening jolt of pain up his own arm.

Even that doesn't bring him all the way back to reality. Neither does the way someone behind him catches his wrists, although that's enough to get him flailing. "Oww," the kid holding him yells as Loki's heel connects with something solid. "Give up, you little pervert. We're going to give you what you deserve, and there's nothing you can do to stop us."

"Screw you," Loki snarls.

Someone slaps him across the face, forcefully enough that his ear rings, and Loki loses his footing. He's on one knee, hissing and howling as someone jerks him backwards by the hair, when he hears it: "LET THE FUCK GO OF MY BROTHER!"

Everyone does, but not before Loki takes a knee in the gut and collapses. His mouth fills with spit; he's sure he's going to vomit. Someone screams "put the chair down," but Loki can't breathe or move and by the time he almost can again there are teachers _everywhere_.

~

"He called Thor names. He called _me_ names," Loki tries to explain to the assistant principal as the nurse dabs something on a stinging scrape on his knuckles. "I shouldn't have hit him," he admits, sadly. "I don't know what I was thinking." He _wasn't_ thinking, clearly, but laying it out there seems like a crap idea. He doesn't.

"What kind of names," the man asks him quietly.

"Homophobic slurs," Loki rasps. He isn't going to mention the rest unless he has to.

"Not again," the assistant principal says. There's an edge in his voice Loki hadn't noticed previously. "It's okay," he says when Loki flinches. "I've read back through your file. None of this should have happened."

"Loki! Honey!" Frigga pushes past everyone and is all over him, smothering him with hugs and kisses.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers into her hair. She smells faintly of limes and flowers. "Some guy called Thor a fag. One of his own teammates. I lost it."

The assistant principle clears his throat. "Excuse me. Mrs. Odinson? May I speak with you for a moment?"

She gives Loki one last squeeze. "Is that okay? I'll be right over there if you need me," she assures him.

"Go," he lies, fighting back tears. "I'm fine."

~

Loki flinches again and looks up, more or less without meaning to, when someone blocks the light.

Someone big.

_Oh, fuck_.

"Uh- hey," _Thor_ says. He sounds- nervous. "Thanks for sticking up for me back there. You- uh- you didn't have to."

"Yeah," Loki tells his brother, "I did." He looks at the floor. At the bright whiteness of the bandage the nurse is just finishing wrapping. At anything but Thor, really. "Thank _you_ for jumping in." He tries to laugh. It hurts his stomach. It hurts his _heart_. "You probably _did_ have to." The players are big, and strong. He'd be nothing more than a grease spot on the cafeteria linoleum by now, otherwise.

"Any time," Thor says, and then jumps a little. "Oh, hi, mom."

Loki does look up again, then. His mother is smiling back and forth at the two of them. She’s practically _glowing_.

"I can take you both home," Frigga says. She wipes her eye brusquely, like (she's pretending) there's something in it. "If you'll ride together."

Loki turns to the assistant principal. He raises his eyebrows in question.

"I don't think you should be in detention with the people who bullied you," the man says, waving one hand to shoo them, “and neither should your brother. Go. It's fine. I promise."

Once he's pulled his shirt back on, carefully, Loki takes Thor's proffered hand and lets his brother help him stand. He sighs. Everything has changed - shifted and tilted and left them all sliding sideways, scrabbling frantically to hold on - and there's no point in pretending it hasn't. "I'm good with it," he says, answering his mom but looking shyly at Thor, "if you are."

"Yeah," his brother says. "I am."


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crossing the creek bed, stone by stone.

“Does it hurt?” Thor shifts some of his weight onto his left palm and looks over at Loki, who is hunched up against one of the porch posts. His brother has a darkening bruise on the left side of the face and a bandaged hand. Loki’s hair is half out of its ponytail and sticking up here and there, the way it sometimes looks first thing in the morning.

Thor feels a little sick looking at the bruise, and a little horny. That part makes him feel even more sick, for different reasons. “Your face,” he says. “But you can take your pick, I guess.” Talking feels dangerous, like walking through a minefield. He doesn’t want to step wrong and get his leg blown off. “I was frightened,” he admits as Loki shrugs (and then winces). “Back there, in the cafeteria. I didn’t want them to-…” He trails off. Loki’s looking at him a little strangely, and he’s just not sure what to say.

“I started it,” Loki says. “If I hadn’t hit that guy… but I couldn’t sit there listening and just do nothing.”

Thor huffs. “You might have thrown the first punch,” he concedes, “but you sure didn’t start it.”

“You weren’t there,” his brother says, frowning. “How would you know?”

Thor picks at a hangnail. “He admitted it,” he says. “Glen, the jerk you punched. He told Mr. Coulson that he’d said you were gay and that you were only sexually attracted to me.”

Loki swallows loudly. Thor can see his brother’s adam’s apple bob. He wants to lean closer and lick it. He doesn’t. The way things have been going Loki might rip his face off. “It’s okay,” he assures his brother instead. “Mr. Coulson stuck up for you right away. Not like Mrs. whats-her-nuts we had to deal with in middle school.”

“He didn’t say anything about us- you know?”

“No, not at all.” Thor tries to relax a little. “He told Glen that wasn’t an acceptable way to talk to – or about – anybody. And then once we were alone, he told me you were a brave young man. He said I- I’m lucky to have you for a brother.”

Loki makes a disgusted snorting sound somewhere up in his sinuses and winces again. He rubs at his belly and makes a face. “Awesome. And what did you tell him?”

“That I know that,” Thor says quietly. “Because I do.”

The ensuing pause is very, very long. Uncomfortably long. Somewhere in the bushes behind the house Thor can hear a bird singing. Its companion answers, from way out at the edge of the woods.

He can’t decide if that leaves him feeling hopeful, or jealous.

“You’re not very good at showing it,” Loki says, finally.

“Yeah,” Thor tells his brother, “I know.” He tries to smile. “I mean, I know _that_ , too.”

~

Loki can see Frigga watching them out the window. She’s sitting in one of the Queen Anne chairs pretending to read. It’s not a chair she ever uses. Every time he catches her looking, she ducks back behind her magazine.

He kind of wants to wave at her and see what happens. He doesn’t. It’s been a rollercoaster day for her, too, probably. There’s no good reason to be unpleasant to the one person who always sticks by him.

“So, now what,” he asks his brother. Thor looks awkward – scared, even – and Loki can’t decide if he likes that or hates it. He can’t decide a lot of things. Like whether getting his brother to kiss him would (okay, will) be a good thing or a mistake.

“Now,” Thor says, “I hope we can- oh, fuck it.” He swings one leg up onto the porch and hitches closer. Much closer. “I love you. I’ve missed you so, so bad. I want you back. I want us to be okay. I-I want you to be happy.”

“Mm,” Loki hums. He feels jittery and tired. His ribs hurt; his hand and face are both throbbing.

“Do _you_ want that,” Thor asks. He’s fidgeting, too, like his body can’t decide if it wants to come closer or pull away.

“Which,” Loki asks drily. “That was an awful lot of stuff there.”

Thor shrugs. “Any of it. All of it. I don’t want to play games with you.”

Loki lets one leg slide out flat, so his ankle is close by his brother’s hip. Doing so makes his abs hurt more, but he knows physical proximity is always a good strategy when it comes to winning his brother over so he sticks with it. He cocks his head, even though it hurts to do _that_ too. “But I _am_ a game,” he says coyly. “I always have been.”

“That’s different.” Sure enough, Thor’s voice is rough. Loki can feel the heat coming off Thor’s hand where his calf is almost touching his brother’s fingers.

“Is it?” He lets his forehead wrinkle, which is easy because he hurts for real anyway. “Are you sure?”

It doesn’t go the way he expected. Thor straightens up and turns back towards the yard. “I thought I was,” he says quietly, and Loki’s heart starts pounding. “No, I _know_ I was. I know I _am_. But I can’t do this- this whatever, brothers or boyfriends or both, alone.”

Part of Loki wants to reach for the olive branch. Part wants to push a little harder and see if Thor will beg after all. Part – and this is the part that always gets him in trouble; he knows that, but he almost always feels powerless to stop it – wants to say something awful… and then toast marshmallows over the pit as the world burns.

Behind Thor’s shoulders he can see Frigga watching again from the window. She’s frowning. Stern, like only their mother can be.

She doesn’t look away this time, even when he makes a helpless little face at her.

For her, Loki won’t be the monster.

He sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says. He makes himself stay still as his brother’s head whips around.

Thor’s eyes are narrowed, like he thinks Loki’s screwing with him.

Which, of course, Loki has been. It shouldn’t smart like it does. “No, I really am,” he says. “You’re not alone.” He extends his good hand, the one that isn’t all taped and gauzed and hurty, and turns it palm-up in supplication.

His brother looks from face to hand to face to hand for so long that Loki’s arm starts shaking.

Only then does Thor shift enough to cup Loki’s fingers with his own.

When his brother’s lips touch the ticklish skin of his palm ever so gently, Loki gives everything away anyway: he sucks in a loud gasping breath and starts sobbing.

Which, of course, hurts all over. He’s not really thinking about that, though, because Thor is immediately there to hug and hold him.

~

“Are you two doing okay,” their mother says from the doorway.

Both of them jump. “Shhhh,” Thor soothes, rubbing Loki’s back gently. It feels nice. He’s really missed this.

“We’re good, mom,” they say in stereo.

And then they laugh, just a little, for the first time in forever.


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby steps.

“So this happened _how_ , exactly?” Odin stands at one of the big windows that line the back wall of the formal dining room, the room they only use when they’re feeling extra-fancy, and watches his sons.

His tall, handsome, almost-grown-up sons who, for the past three months, have not spoken a word to one another… but who are now wholly engrossed in a toe-scuffing, shyly-smiling, open-body-language-displaying conversation (with each other!) under one of the big oaks near the driveway. He’s not Frigga, and he’s no mind reader, but just now it doesn’t take any of that to see that Thor and Loki are really engaging each other. That, and they’re doing it gladly, with a degree of enthusiasm he hasn’t seen in either of them since- since Europe.

He would almost feel guilty for spying – it’s a personal, intimate-looking conversation and he’s reasonably sure they’re having it far from the house for a reason – except for how he’s just so relieved to see them together.

Maybe he’ll feel guilty another day instead.

“A bunch of bullying,” Frigga says. “It’s a little hard to explain, but apparently someone said something insulting about both Thor and Loki to Loki, so Loki hit the guy and got jumped, and Thor intervened. There was punching. Loki is a little battered. They got detention.” She laughs. “Which they are serving in our yard. And that’s just the abridged version. Like I said,” she goes on, still laughing, “it’s a little hard to explain. It’s nice to see, though.”

Odin nods. “I thought for sure I was going to have to come home from Hawaii halfway through my trip because you had the two of them snared in opposite corners of the parlor and had run out of hands,” he tells her, only partly teasing. “This looks a lot more promising.”

“It’s only one afternoon,” she warns, “but I do have to agree.”

As Odin watches, Thor wraps Loki in a big hug. Loki freezes only briefly before leaning in to press against his brother’s body from shoulders to knees. It’s a good and wonderful thing, it is, but Odin’s still their father; he has to look away.

~

“Don’t make a big deal out of any of it,” Dr. Banner advises when Frigga calls him from the relative privacy of Odin’s home office. “It’s encouraging that they’re talking again, and that they seem pleased about the change themselves, but I think you’ll do best just treating it all as routine. If you draw attention to them, you risk having them- react badly.”

“As in,” Frigga prompts. She’d like a better understanding of exactly where he’s coming from before she accidentally puts her foot in anything.

“It’s hard to know,” Dr. Banner admits. “If they feel like they’re under the microscope, they could start fighting again. Or they could rush into things they’re not ready for, just to make a point.”

_Ah_. No, she doesn’t want any of that. “Okay,” she concedes. “I’ll talk to my husband, and we’ll try to pretend everything is… normal? Ordinary? Something like that.” She laughs; she’s a little uncomfortable. She isn’t normally out of her element with this sort of thing.

Of course, in fairness, she’s never actually faced anything quite like this before.

“They’re trying to absorb a lot,” Dr. Banner reminders her. “The adoption. Their longstanding _dirty secret_ out in the more-or-less-open. The freedom of Europe versus the reality of home. And now, what, Loki’s ex-girlfriend back in town and potentially causing trouble?” He sighs. “I’m not sure I know an _adult_ who wouldn’t be struggling under that sort of load. And these two are only teenagers.”

~

At dinnertime, Thor and Loki show up right on schedule. Thor goes straight to the cupboard and loads up with dishes, silverware, and glasses; his brother dons an apron and washes his hands carefully.

“How can I help,” Loki asks as he dries his fingers off with a paper towel. “Do you want me to make salad?”

Frigga smiles to herself. She’s baking a lasagna; both of them love it. It’s perfect peacekeeping food. “Sure, sweetie,” she tells him. “And make some Italian dressing.”

When Thor comes back in for another load and stops briefly to kiss the side of his brother’s neck, right below the angle of Loki’s jaw, she pretends she doesn’t see anything.

And when Loki sneaks a peek at her afterwards, likely trying to gauge her reaction, she keeps right on pretending.

~

Dinner is- _nice_. There really isn’t any other word for it.

The boys fill their father in on why they’re in detention, talking over one another and then rushing to apologize for doing so. “I just couldn’t sit back and listen to that garbage,” Loki says, a little ruefully. “And _I_ couldn’t watch my brother getting the crap beat out of him,” Thor finishes. “Anyone who has a problem with him… has a problem with me.”

Odin smiles at them. “You know I don’t want either of you fighting,” he reminds them both, watching to be sure they both look appropriately contrite (and they do), “but just this once I can’t say as I blame you.”

They look relieved. “I just couldn’t help it,” Loki says again. “This was one of his teammates. One of his _friends_.”

“Not my friend,” Thor scoffs. “Never.”

Frigga comes to the table with the steaming pan of lasagna. They all scoop out big servings, bigger than they really need. “So,” Loki says, “are you looking forward to Hawaii?”

Odin thinks for a minute. “Yes and no,” he says. “I love it there, and I like this particular customer. But I wish we could all go.”

Thor smiles. He probably thinks his parents don’t know he’s playing footsie with Loki under the table. “We could, you know,” he teases.

“Well,” Odin says, “maybe next time.”

~

They read in the den after dinner, Odin and Frigga in their respective chairs and Thor and Loki cuddling together - a little awkwardly - on the big sofa. “And you? Are you looking forward to the end of school,” Thor asks his brother quietly.

Loki smiles at him. “I haven’t been,” he concedes, “but it’s growing on me.”


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frigga has all the fun.

Frigga stretches. She does need to get to bed soon - it’s been a long week and she has an early meeting in the morning – but it’s nice to have a few minutes to enjoy the peace and quiet. She feels like she's been holding her breath the entire time Odin's been gone, but his plane is in the air now - somewhere over the Pacific, due in early tomorrow morning - and the world hasn't ended.

Even if Tuesday's dinner conversation was a bit rough, that is.

~

In the grand scheme of things, _man-to-man talks_ usually fall to Odin. It’s for the best, normally. However, Frigga knows this whole topic is a little more than he can comfortably handle.

So, on Tuesday night, she’d deemed it _time for a chat_. The three of them had sat down to gnocchi and red sauce, another of Loki's nice big salads, and a lovely discussion about sex and house rules and boundaries.

"Look," she'd told the two of them, "I know you're limited when it comes to acceptable outlets for your affections. Not to mention your sexual desires," she'd added, partly to see them blush and flail, "and so your father and I are willing to give you a little more leeway than we might if you were just bringing your dates over to the house for a visit. However," she'd warned, looking at them both a little sternly, "that doesn't mean we want front row seats to any peepshows."

"Put yourselves in our shoes," she'd suggested when they'd protested. "How would you like it if we were always making out in front of the TV in the den, having sex with our bedroom door open, and leaving you to clean up the mess we'd made of our laundry? Exactly," she'd gone on when they'd both _MOOOOMMMMM_ ed at the top of their lungs. "We all share this house. We need to conduct ourselves with courtesy."

They'd both hastily agreed, their horrified faces blotched pink and white. Thor’s fork had hovered in midair for the better part of a minute.

She'd meant the whole discussion as a preemptive strike; the most she'd ever caught them doing was a little too much cuddling. Given their reactions, though, she found herself unable to help wondering what else they've been up to.

"Condoms, too," she'd reminded them, consequently. "You're young. You're impulsive. At your age you should trust one another but always take care of yourselves, too. Because if you don’t, no one else will."

"We're not doing _that_ , mom," Loki had exclaimed, blushing furiously. "We weren't before and we still aren't. Seriously! Jesus!"

She'd smiled her best cheerful smile at each of them. "Well, if you do, be safe about it. If you need any directions-."

" _YES_ , mom, we _get_ it," Loki had cut in, his voice cracking. Thor had been too busy choking on a mouthful of water to say anything. "Now, can we talk about... I don't know. _Grades_ , maybe?!"

At that point Thor had finally found his ability to talk again,. "I got an A on my math test today," he'd volunteered. "And I think I did okay on my English paper."

Loki'd laughed. "Yeah," he'd observed, "this is much better."

~

Odin takes the shuttle out to the long-term lot. He'd slept some on the plane and more at his connecting airport, but the jetlagged feeling is already starting to get to him. The drive home is not short. He'd stopped on his way through the terminal to get a big paper cup of coffee and had pretty much chugged the entire thing at the baggage carousel.

The caffeine hasn't done much of anything for the yawning, but he thinks needing to pee badly – which he does, already - will keep him from dozing off while driving. That, or it may get him arrested when he stops to take a leak by the roadside.

Still, it's good to be on his way home. And it's officially summer, now; his kids are out of school. He can sleep in (while they do; they’re teenaged boys, after all) and then catch up over lunch, maybe.

He tips the shuttle driver and loads the car up with his endless luggage. Even after all these years he’s never really mastered the art of packing light. Once upon a time it was embarrassing. These days, he just doesn’t care anymore.

As he slides behind the wheel and puts the key in the ignition, his phone buzzes.

_welcome home_ , the screen reads. _missed u_.

Loki.

Odin waits for the Bluetooth adapter to connect. “Hi, buddy,” he says when his younger son answers. “Everything okay?” It’s 6:30 in the morning, late for a farmer but early for the perpetual morning sleepyhead of his two boys.

 

“Yeah, I think so.” Loki yawns; Odin stifles one of his own. “I’m just having trouble sleeping.”

“You and your brother getting along,” Odin asks Loki. “Your mother didn’t mention-.”

“We’re good,” Loki assures him. The connection isn’t awesome; they don’t have the best cell coverage at the house, and Odin’s already getting to the outer reaches of civilization. “And, no, mom was too busy talking about _the birds and the bees_ to be bothering you with anything.”

“Oh, man,” Odin groans. “Sorry about that. I didn’t know she had that planned.”

Loki laughs quietly, and Odin wonders abruptly if his sons are in bed together. “Just be glad you missed it. Hurry home, okay,” Loki orders him.

“See you in a few,” Odin promises.

And he does. He lets himself in at the back door about 20 minutes later and sets his bags in the hallway; they’ll still be there later. Right now, he just wants to tell his boys a quick hello – Frigga is at work and won’t be home until dinner – and then burrow into his own bed and sleep off this half-dead feeling.

He tiptoes upstairs, dodging the squeaky stair five steps up and smiling to himself about who the _teenager at heart_ here might be. At the top of he stairs he pauses. Thor’s door is ajar; even from down the hall Odin can hear muffled snoring. He decides against knocking; instead, he opens the door a few inches and sticks his head in.

Thor is sprawled out on his back, sound asleep. He’s tall and broad enough now that he sticks out of the bed in all directions. The covers are everywhere, meaning he’s barely covered, but he probably isn’t the least bit cold because- because he’s wearing- his brother.

Loki has fallen back to sleep as well, cell phone still clutched in one outstretched hand. The other hand is on Thor’s stomach. Their fingers are laced together.

They’re naked and decidedly not decent. Odin doesn’t care; seeing them sleeping peacefully together makes him smile.

He opens the door just enough to slip inside and carefully pries the phone free of Loki’s grasp. As Odin sets the thing gently on the dresser, his sons stir.

“I love you, brother,” Loki whispers sleepily to Thor as he shifts onto his side and curls closer. The sheets are a rumpled mess; his bottom is pink and crisscrossed with creases and wrinkles.

Odin tiptoes backwards out of the room. There’s no way he’s going to disturb them. There will be plenty of time for talking… later. Right now, he just needs to lie down.


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talking is always a little tricky.

On Saturday morning Odin wakes up to find his wife watching him from one of the soft little reading chairs by the bed. The sun is streaming in; it’s later than it feels. “Hi,” he says, his voice a little raspy from sleep. She smiles.

“I missed you,” Frigga tells him. “The kids missed you. It’s _good_ to have you home.”

He sits up slowly and stretches, then rubs his face and rakes back his hair. It’s a good thing there isn’t a mirror on this side of the room, because he _so_ doesn’t want to know. “You did great with them, though,” he tells his wife. “And they tell me you had _The Talk_ , too. Well, _he_ told me,” Odin adds, because it really had only been Loki. “And then when I got home they were all snuggled up in bed together. Just like when they were babies. Except, um, not really.”

She laughs softly. “I was going to say you owed me one after Tuesday night’s dinner conversation – and let me guess,” she interjects, “it was _Loki_ who told you, wasn’t it – but anyway,” she goes on, smiling as he nods, “it sounds like I don’t have to make idle threats because karma already got you.”

He shakes his head, looking down and just letting it swing from side to side. Doing so makes him a bit dizzy, barely up from sleeping like he is. He stops and makes himself look his wife in the eye instead. “Nah, they were cute. Seeing them together- well, it probably shouldn’t, but it makes me happy. I like the idea,” he explains when she raises an eyebrow, and she looks so much like Loki for an instant that he once again can’t fathom how they’re not blood relations, “of them looking out for one another. Of them having each other once we’re gone.” He shrugs. “Okay, of Loki having someone once we’re gone. Thor will always draw people to him.”

Frigga nods. “He will, but I’m not sure _any old people_ would give him what he needs to be happy.”

“So you’re okay with this,” he asks her. “Because I didn’t think I could be, but maybe I am.”

She nods again. “It’s not what I would have chosen for them, sure, but…” – she stops, lips pursed – “maybe it’s actually a good thing. In a way. And if it’s not I’m sure they’ll figure that out soon enough.”

“I shouldn’t,” he admits, “but I almost- no, I do hope they never figure that out.”

“I know,” she agreed. “I feel a little guilty thinking this way, but… me too.”

~

“So, do you _want_ to do it?”

Thor’s question catches Loki completely off guard. He’s been reading quietly in one of the overstuffed armchairs that crowd Odin’s office while his brother uses their father’s computer to play a slightly-too-loud online game – their parents have gone into town to catch a movie, and they kind of weren’t invited… not that he’d really wanted to go anyway, and Thor didn’t seem particularly disappointed either – so it takes him a moment to even process the fact that his brother has spoken. “Hm,” he hums, blinking and frowning. “Do I want to do _what_?” He halfway thinks he might have missed something somewhere.

More than halfway, really.

Thor frowns back at him. “It-it. You know,” his brother grumbles when Loki squinches up his nose and says nothing. “Sex. Do you want to have sex?”

_Oh._

“Now?” Loki doesn’t mean to sound like a jerk but from the look on Thor’s face he’s inadvertently managed to. “Sorry,” he tries again. “I’m- I’m not sure what you’re really asking.”

“It’s not a complicated question,” his brother snaps. “Fine. Forget I asked.”

Okay, he’s definitely missed something.

“What’s wrong,” he asks quietly.

“ _Nothing_ ,” Thor starts. His brother stops abruptly and takes a deep breath, then sighs loudly. “When mom was talking, you were awfully quick to make sure she knew it wasn’t even on the radar. The longer I think about it, the more I wonder if you- if you even _want_ me.”

It’s not like Thor to fish for reassurance. That’s Loki’s domain, and he’s the ruler of his own little kingdom. He’s got pretty much no idea how to handle this.

Besides delicately.

He could really use his mom just now.

“I don’t know how to say this,” he tries, waving his hands as Thor’s face hardens. “No no no it’s nothing bad. Don’t _look_ at me like that. Please.” He can feel tears welling up. Awesome. “I totally want to. I just- it’s a big step and. I don’t know. I used to think I did, all the time. But so much has happened that… oh, fuck it,” he says as his brother pushes back from the desk and leaps up to pace back and forth. “Whatever you’re thinking, I didn’t mean it that way at all.”

“And _you’re_ the one who can supposedly talk his way out of anything,” Thor accuses. “Funny, you’re not so good at it now.”

The tears come for real. Loki wipes them away angrily and shakes his hand, splattering water drops across the rug. “STOP,” he barks. “Just- just _stop_. I don’t want to fight about this. I can’t.”

He whips around to curl into the big chair, face buried against its back.

~

It takes him a long time to quiet down enough to realize that his brother is crying too.

“Thor?” He’s all clogged and nasal. “What is it?” He struggles to sit up again; he’s stiff after being curled up (so tight and tense) for so long.

His brother is back at the desk, straddling the chair, with arms crossed atop its back and face buried in them.

Loki stands up. He’s a little wobbly. Maybe when he’s finally grown up his body will stop betraying him constantly. “Thor,” he asks again. “Brother?”

Thor snuffles loudly. “I’m sorry,” his brother says into the chair back. “I- it’s just been bothering me ever since you said it.”

“I love you,” Loki says. It’s the first time he’s said it where his brother can hear, and Thor pops up to look at him. His brother’s eyes are red and puffy. That, and Thor needs a tissue. Or two. Loki tries for a weak little smile. “I do. And I want you. I want to do _it_. With _you_. I just- I don’t want us to regret anything. There,” he says a little nervously. “Was that better?”

His brother nods. “Yeah. And I’m stupid. Go ahead and say it.”

Loki pads over to Thor’s chair. He leans down to nuzzle into his brother’s hair. Thor smells like sunshine and strawberry shampoo. It’s delicious. “Actually,” he says, “if it’s all the same with you, I’d just as soon not.”


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Should I stay or should I go?"

The first couple of weeks of summer vacation - the last one like this they'll ever have, Thor and Loki both realize, because they're going to be seniors in the fall and after that they’ll have to act like grownups - the boys laze around and do typical summer things. They go out to the pond and lie on the dock, sometimes making out in the relative privacy of the tall cattails but more often than not just sprawled on the sunbaked wood watching the clouds pass slowly overhead.

Loki still dives into the water whenever he overheats, which he's always done more easily than has his brother, but he comes up promptly and barely scares Thor at all.

In fact, Thor's almost reached a point where he can watch Loki cutting effortlessly through the pale green water and not feel his heart leaping into his throat. Not quite, but almost.

They sit out on the porch at dusk, skin sticky and fragrant with bug spray, to soak up the last light of the day. It's too early in the season for fireflies, but even so the two of them both love the time of day where afternoon melts into night.

Mindful of what Frigga'd told them while Odin was in Hawaii, they spend a lot more time exploring their bodies - and unearthing the secrets of what turns each one of them hopelessly, overwhelmingly on - in the shower and a lot less doing so in their beds. They also take on the (endless, especially as spring gives way to hot, sweaty weather) job of doing their own laundry.

~

Everything’s coming up _summer_. Odin takes a few days off to make a long weekend, and Frigga leaves work both Friday and Monday at noon. She and Loki round up all the makings of an elaborate picnic. The four of them eat every bit of it at a pretty park on the far side of the city… one they’ve never visited before. On the ride out and back everyone sings along with the radio, at the very top of his or her respective lungs.

Afterwards Thor wants to go fishing but Loki won't let him. "We swim with these fish," he protests. "It's just wrong. How would you feel if they killed _me_ and grilled me for dinner?"

~

The next day Odin asks Loki if he still wants to be a veterinarian. Loki admits that he’s pretty much decided against it; he doesn't think he could handle some parts of the job. Odin's okay with that - he's not about to tell his sons what to be when they grow up, not when they aren't even asking - but he does seize the opportunity to point out that they _will_ have to do _something_.

He'd really like to see, he reminds them both, part of that something be _more schooling_. As he’s told them several times previously, if nothing else it will give them something to fall back on.

Loki's test scores are off the charts; even though he hardly tries sometimes, it's clear he can do most anything.

Thor is a little closer to average - Loki sets an awfully high bar - but has football and personality in his favor. Odin isn't the least bit worried about him finding something either.

"I don't want to go away to college," Loki says, eyebrows knitted and eyes sad. "I want to stay here, on the farm."

"Well, there are couple of good schools here in town," Odin says, "but you should at least take a look at some of your other options. The farm," he assures both his sons, "will be here when you're done."

"Mm," Loki hums. "I still don't want to."

"Maybe we can go somewhere together," Thor tells him. "That could work out fine, no?"

Loki shoots Thor a dark look and suddenly Odin _gets_ it. He doesn’t _like_ it, but he gets it. "I know this sounds crazy," he says, looking first at Loki and then at Thor, "but you can actually go to different schools and only see each other on break without the world ending."

"No," Loki says, flatly. Thor nods his agreement. They both look annoyed and, behind that, terrified.

~

"I'm not sure what to tell them, or how hard to push," Odin tells Dr. Banner. He and Frigga have talked about this at length and gotten more or less nowhere. "I don't want to hurt them unnecessarily, but I hate to see them limiting themselves and then ending up regretting it later on."

"It's tough," Dr. Banner agrees. "But there does come a time when all you can do is be honest, and then step back and let them make their own decisions. They're smart kids," he adds, "and it seems as though you've raised them to the best of your abilities. They'll figure something out."

Frigga looks at her husband. "We went to college together," she reminds him. "And I think we've done okay."

Odin leans over and hugs her one-handed. "More than okay. But do you ever regret it?"

She stops and thinks. Odin sits slowly back up, just to give her some space. "No," she says eventually. "I don't think so. Life might have been different, sure, but that doesn't mean it would have been better."

Odin sometimes does regret the farm. He regrets never getting out of here and seeing the world as a young man. That's not the same as regretting his time with his wife, though. His marriage. Not at all. "I think I made the right choices overall," he concedes. "And what you mentioned is true. I have no way of knowing if different would have been better. But I hate to see our kids trapped here by the farm."

"They aren't _you_ , you know," Frigga reminds him quietly.

Her voice is barely more than a whisper but the words land like a punch to the gut just the same. He swallows, twice, before he’s able to speak again. “No, you’re right,” he tells her. “They aren’t. I do realize that. I just wish they could learn from my mistakes, you know? It’s not what it sounds like,” he hastens to assure Dr. Banner. “She knows what I mean. I sometimes wish I’d gotten off the family farm; that’s all. It has nothing to do with her.”

“We could have gone,” she says, so softly he can hardly hear her. “I would have come with you.”

Odin shrugs. He doesn’t like to talk about this… doesn’t like to _think_ about it. That’s kind of what family therapy seems to be about, though. “Maybe,” he concedes. “But by the time I really knew that was an option,” he says, “I couldn’t bear to uproot the boys. They’ve always loved the place, more than anything,” _except, apparently, each other_.

“Well,” Frigga says, “maybe that’s part of why they’re planning on staying.”


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, summer. Also known as "Loki overthinks things."

"Are you sure you want to stay in town for college," Thor asks Loki. They're flopped on the dock, at right angles to one another; Loki is using Thor's hip as a pillow. His hair is hot and kind of tickly, on both Thor's belly and thigh.

Thor doesn't mind. He combs Loki’s hair lazily with his fingers and thinks about how soft and smooth it feels. It doesn't _feel_ curly. Loki's hair is much less coarse than his own.

By the time Loki answers - "I don't care about college. College is stupid. _School's_ stupid. I just want to stay with the farm." - Thor's almost managed to forget his own question.

"We could come back here," he tells his brother. "Afterwards, I mean. We could go somewhere cool for college and come back to the farm after graduation. If we don't get scholarships,” which is highly unlikely especially for Loki, “you know mom and dad would pay." He traces Loki's hairline lightly. His finger glides along without much resistance; they're both hot and sweaty. "Anywhere you want to go, we can."

"I want to stay here," Loki says, shortly. "Can we talk about something else?"

"What's wrong," Thor finally asks when, after several minutes of lying there in silence, his brother is still tense and jumpy.

"Nothing," Loki snaps. He rolls off of Thor's body and into the water in one smooth motion. There's quite a splash.

Thor doesn't care. He's too warm anyway.

Loki swims underwater to the shallow far edge of the pond. He stands, water streaming down his back and legs, and smoothes back his hair. And then he marches purposefully off through the cattails and disappears.

The last thing Thor sees is the bright pinkish white of his brother's naked backside vanishing into the reeds.

He flops back onto his back. Loki's not going to go far, not stark naked and barefoot.

Except his brother doesn't come back, and doesn't. And doesn't.

Thor hauls himself gracelessly to his feet with a loud groan. It's shortest to swim across the pond, but he really wants his shoes once he gets to the other side. He kicks them on and resigns himself to walking all the way around. Just in case, he hooks his fingers into the backs of Loki's ratty docksiders and brings them along too.

It takes Thor a long time to make his way around the pond's perimeter, partly because he has to move carefully to avoid getting smacked in the nuts with anything. He’s not even halfway before he decides he probably should have taken the time to pull his shorts on. It’s not worth going back, though; he can’t take the chance of- of missing something important.

Loki is only twenty-ish yards away from the far edge of the water, sitting sloppily cross-legged on the grassy slope and closely inspecting one foot. There's blood. When he hears Thor, Loki looks up. "I stepped on glass or something," he offers as Thor sprints the last few yards. "Not my brightest dramatic exit, eh? And you should see yourself, for that matter, running up here with your shoes on and your dick flapping."

"I brought your shoes, too," Thor says, brandishing them. "But it looks like I may have to carry you anyway." He drops to his knees in the thick grass. "Let me see."

Thor swats Loki's hands away and takes his brother's injured foot by the ankle. Up close it's not really that bad, a long cut but not a deep one. He presses carefully around it; Loki barely flinches. "Whatever you stepped on," Thor tells his brother, "I don't think it's stuck in your foot or anything." He rocks back to sit on his haunches. "So, tell me. What was that all about?"

His brother slumps forward, elbows on knees. "It's stupid," Loki warns. Thor gestures _on with it_ ; Loki sighs. "I feel like- if we leave, and then you move on and dump me, I won't be able to come back here. I'm only adopted, after all."

Thor's regretted those words since they first left his mouth. "I should never have said that," he admits. He touches a finger very, very carefully to his brother's bony ankle. "You belong here as much as anybody. Mom and Dad would never take this place away from you."

"They would if it came down to you versus me," Loki counters. He shifts to tuck his feet underneath himself. The cut has stopped bleeding; it’s just oozing a few trickles of pinky-golden fluid.

Thor shakes his head. "Not. Gonna. Happen." He taps it out on Loki's knee. “I’m not going anywhere. And if I somehow did,” he adds as his brother starts to argue, “I would never take the farm from you. I don’t- I can’t see myself taking care of the place alone. Does it hurt,” he asks, to change the subject. He touches Loki’s foot again. “I don’t like to see you suffer.”

“Maybe you should stop following after me, then,” Loki says.

“No,” Thor tells him. “Never.”

~

“Where are your helpers,” Odin asks Frigga on his way through the kitchen. He dumps his computer bag and briefcase in the office and comes back out to give her a big hug. “I figured they’d be all over the place in here, getting in the way.

Frigga shrugs. “They went down to the pond around lunchtime,” she says. “I know better than to go looking for them there. They’ll be back,” she tells him, trying her best to sound reassuring. Wondering where the twins are all the time will only drive a person crazy. “Don’t worry. They have a lot to talk about these days.”

“Are they doing okay, do you think,” Odin asks. “They seem awfully preoccupied recently.”

As if they’d confess anything to her that they’re not willing to discuss with him. Still, it’s sweet that he thinks differently. “They’re growing up,” she reminds him. “Think back. It’s anything but easy.”

~

Odin is sitting out on the porch reading, a big glass of iced tea beside him on the floor, when his sons make their way up out of the pasture. Thor is hopelessly tan, teeth bright white against his golden face, and even Loki has picked up a good amount of color for so early in the season. They have their arms slung around each other’s waists, shirts dangling. Only belatedly does Odin realize that Loki is half limping, half hopping.

He jumps to his feet. “What happened? Do I need to get your mother?”

Loki smiles. “It’s just a little cut,” he says. “I’ll live.”

Thor and Odin both end up saying “you’d better.”


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Thor get a job, after all.

It's about the time both Loki's foot and Thor's _nerves_ have finally returned to normal that Mrs. Wallace calls. She's just been to see her doctor, she tells Frigga, and he's told her she's simply not up to caring for the animals anymore. He's also told her she probably has less than a year to live, she says, but Mrs. Wallace is a big believer in miracles. "Please don't tell your boys that bit about passing on," she asks Frigga. "I don't want them looking at me differently. It’s their muscles I need, not their pity."

"I get that," Frigga tells her sadly, "and I won't volunteer anything... but Odin and I do try very hard not to lie to our children."

Mrs. Wallace sighs. "Have to take the bad with the good, won't I," she says. "I'll tell them myself," she assures Frigga, "when the time is right. For now, will you ask if they want to help out around here? Of course, I'll pay them."

"I'm sure they will," Frigga says, "but, yes, I'll ask them." She smiles into the phone. "And thanks, but you know you don't need to."

"Oh," Mrs. Wallace says, "but I want to. Can't take it with me, now, can I?"

~

"She tells me her place is getting to be a little too much work for her," Frigga tells Loki and Thor that afternoon. Both of her boys look instantly worried. "Is Mrs. Wallace okay," they ask over one another, and right on the heels of that, "she isn't selling the place, is she? Her house is _so cool_ ," Loki adds before Frigga can even hope to start answering either one of them. "That would be really sad."

Frigga makes herself smile. "No, no," she assures them. "She's just hoping you two are interested in helping her out with the animals and the barn. As a job, that is."

"Sure," Thor says - for both of them; Loki's nodding like crazy - "of course. When does she need us?"

"Tomorrow," Frigga says. When she'd volunteered to come over this evening, Mrs. Wallace had declined and had gone on to explain that she had a woman from her church stopping by. "And if you're up to it," Frigga warns her boys (there’s no point in unpleasant surprises, for anyone), "I think she will still want your help after school starts back up in the fall."

"She's okay, though?" Loki looks even more worried. Worried and a little skeptical. Nothing gets by him, ever. She really does love him for it. Usually.

"I think it's just getting to be a lot for her," Frigga says carefully. "You can ask her how she's doing when you see her."

"Mm," Loki acknowledges. "Oh, I will.” He looks at his brother. “During football you can take mornings and I'll take evenings.”

If Thor's hurt to learn (for absolute certain) that Loki hasn’t had a change of heart going back to band this one last season, or that he himself has just been stuck with all the weekday school year mucking, he manages not to show it. "Sure," he says amicably. "No problem."

"Thanks, guys," Frigga tells the two of them, fondly. They're good people. "I'll let her know you'll be over in the morning."

~

Fourteen hours later they stand in Mrs. Wallace's kitchen, trading looks behind her back as she goes over their instructions.

"I'm going to stay after we're done with the animals and clean up some in there," Loki tells Thor as they walk out to the barn together. The house looks fine from the outside - the place has recently been painted creamy white and sunny yellow, and it's only a couple of years ago that she'd had the flashing done and a few broken slates repaired - but it's obvious from the inside that more than the barn is getting away from Mrs. Wallace.

"Me, too," Thor offers. "We'll get more done that way."

~

They’re pleasantly surprised to find that the barn isn't as much work as it once was. One of the horses had died over the winter, Mrs. Wallace had told them, and she'd opted for a goat rather than another horse to keep the survivor company. "I just wasn't up to two horses," she'd explained earlier, "not even then. And my Jonah here" - that's the goat, it takes them a while to realize - "he makes a good friend. He’s no trouble." It’s just the two bigger animals, and three or four of the tamest barn cats Loki has ever seen. _Four_ , he decides when they all show up together and wind around his ankles looking for snacks and petting.

"I know the whole point of barn cats is _not to feed them_ ," Mrs. Wallace had admitted shortly before they'd left her kitchen to head outside, "so they’ll catch more vermin, but I can't help myself. It makes them happy."

It makes Loki happy, too.

~

Mucking doesn't take long. Jonah (who's really a _Joanie_ , given what little Loki knows about goat anatomy) shares a stall with the horse, so there's only the one that needs doing. Thor rolls the wheelbarrow out to the manure pile while Loki measures out scoops of grain. They work together to make sure the _horse drinking fountains_ , as Thor always calls the things, are working and then let everyone out of the barn and into the smaller pasture.

The morning is just starting to get hot. They spend a few more minutes playing with the cats and swatting flies (otherwise known as procrastinating). "Let's get this done," Thor finally says, getting slowly to his feet. "If we hurry we can still do a little swimming."

Loki laughs. "I think we're going to need to."

~

"Oh, that's sweet of you, but you don't need to spend your whole day here," Mrs. Wallace tells them when they offer to- to spruce the place up for her.

Not two minutes later, though, she's cheerfully telling them where they can find the vacuum and cleaning supplies.

Loki does the dishes while Mrs. Wallace sits at the table, smiling and offering pointers. She does let him rearrange things a bit, so he can put the stuff she uses regularly within easy reach. The kitchen itself shows signs of a recent cleaning, but he gives everything a good once-over anyway.

Thor hurries back and forth between them, every few minutes, as he takes out the garbage, washes the insides of the windows, swaps out blown light bulbs from a box of spares in the pantry, and then tackles the vacuuming.

When Loki’s done in the kitchen he does several loads of laundry. He separates the mountain of dirty things into lights and darks, because Frigga didn't raise her boys to be stupid, but he's careful not to really look at anything too closely. He'd be awfully embarrassed if Mrs. Wallace was doing _his_ laundry, after all.

In between loads he helps his brother, folds clean things, and grudgingly supervises as Mrs. Wallace makes herself some soup and a little sandwich.

"I'm fine," she’d said, shooing him away when he tried to help out with the lunch preparation. "I may be old but I do still know how to feed myself." She'd grinned then, so Loki’d made himself laugh. He'd been sad, actually (and still is, for that matter), but she didn’t need to know that. He and his brother are here to make her day better.

It's late afternoon when they finally finish, so Loki and Thor end up sticking around. They find themselves watching something tedious with Mrs. Wallace - on her blurry old TV - until it's time to bring the animals in for the night.

~

"She must have paid us in singles," Thor calls out to Loki, laughing, as they ride their bikes home. He waves the fat envelope. "Look at the size of this thing."

~

"Holy shit," Loki breathes. They're at their own kitchen counter, guzzling lemonade. Next time they're going to be over there so long, they need to take along some water. "There's almost four grand in here."

Mrs. Wallace hadn't paid them in ones after all... she'd paid them in _twenties_.

~

"No, darling," Mrs. Wallace tells Frigga when they all pile into the car and drive back over. "It's no mistake. But thank you. Just look at this place," she adds, gesturing around herself. "Look at everything they did in here! You're all godsends." She smiles at Loki, then at Thor. "Don't get too comfortable, though," she teases. "I won't be paying you quite this well on a daily basis."

~

By the time they’re finally home for good, it's a little late for the pond. They hook up the sprinkler and run through it instead, shrieking like little children.

Rich little children, even.


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys find something neat at Mrs. Wallace's.

Loki and Thor put some of their newfound riches towards a computer for their room. They figure they can share a single laptop; they share books and magazines (and the bed) as it is, and they both agree that Loki’s really the computer nerd of the two of them anyway. The rest of their earnings, they hand off to Odin to cover the cost of a cellular modem and its monthly contract.

Thor promises to let Loki use the computer whenever he likes.

Loki, in exchange, promises not to secretly download porn. His brother tells him he can still look at it if he wants to… it’s the lying and the hiding it, Thor explains, that isn’t welcome in their bedroom.

“I don’t lie about it _to you_ ,” Loki tells his brother. “Just the assistant principal at the middle school. And, um, mom and dad. And- yeah,” he says a little sheepishly, “I’m starting to see your point. I won’t, okay?”

They both prefer a laptop, even though Loki explains that a desktop is cheaper and faster; they want to be able to bring it to bed and look at travel pictures.

~

Frigga’s a little wary about having a computer in the twins’ bedroom. “They’re not even seventeen yet,” she reminds Odin, in case he’s forgotten. Which he hasn’t. “It’s not just about the money. I don’t want them getting themselves into trouble.”

Privately, Odin doubts either of his sons would have any difficulty finding trouble now, computer or no computer. “If they’re going to bite off anything they can’t chew,” he tells his wife, “I guess it’s best they do it here. At least this way we’re still around to guide them.” He has several coworkers with college-aged children, and the only one whose kid – daughter, in this particular case, although Odin doubts that’s relevant – really managed to get herself into a significant mess was the one who clung the most tenaciously to _not in my house, you don’t_ all through her childhood. “How ‘bout we trust them until they give us reason not to,” he suggests. It’s what they’ve done all along, really, and it’s worked out well enough so far.

Frigga sighs. “I know, and I do. I just wish we could protect them from everything that might ever hurt them,” she says softly. “But that’s not realistic. It never was.”

Odin gets up from his chair and walks over to join his wife on the sofa. When he wraps one arm loosely around her shoulders, she leans into his side with another long sigh. “All we can do is give them the best start possible,” he reminds her, “and then let them take it from there. Someone really smart – the best mother I know, for that matter – used to tell me that.”

She laughs. “I always did wonder if you were actually listening,” she teases.

He gives her a kiss on the temple. “I hung on your every word,” he shoots back. “Every single word.”

“That was an awful lot of hanging,” she says, still laughing. “Your arms must have been pretty tired.” 

She kisses him back, though, and that makes his day a whole lot brighter.

~

Three weeks into helping out Mrs. Wallace, Thor and Loki discover the woodworking equipment. In fact, it’s more fair to say they discover _the workshop_ , because even to their uneducated eyes it’s clear that’s what the big room behind the barn was. Is. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust, but when they poke around a little they find a lot of the power tools are brands they still see in stores today. The hand tools look much older. The blades and moving parts are gummy with dirt and old oil, but nothing looks all that rusty.

“Someone loved it here,” Loki tells Thor quietly. The space feels- sacred, even. “This stuff was really well taken care of.”

“Do you think we should ask about it?” Thor sounds as nervous as Loki feels.

Loki looks around, at the grimy windows and the extension cords heavy with cobwebs and dirt. “I dunno,” he says. “A place like this… has to be full of memories.”

Thor smiles. “It’s still here, though. All of it. Maybe they’re happy memories?”

“Ugh,” Loki says. “I hope so.”  
~

“We were cleaning in the tack room and we found- well, it looks like a woodshop,” Loki says tentatively as they’re talking with Mrs. Wallace later in the day. She’s walking with a cane this week, but she insists she’s fine; just a little extra-tired. Loki doesn’t think he believes her, but he certainly understands needing to keep things inside so he doesn’t push. “But we didn’t mess with anything.” He holds his breath, hoping she doesn’t start bawling. Or yelling at them.

“Oh, my,” she says, and he can’t quite decipher her tone. “I haven’t been in there in ages. Maybe tomorrow I’ll come with you. I’d like to say hi to Blue and Jonah anyway.”

Loki shoots a look at Thor. He doesn’t try quite hard enough to be subtle, and Mrs. Wallace busts him. “If you have questions, Loki, just ask them,” she says. The corners of her eyes crinkle like she’s trying hard not to smile. “Don’t worry; I’m far too slow to bite you.”

“I’m sorry,” Loki says. He feels- stupid. “I was just wondering who- whose stuff it was.” There’s no way the tools are kids’ tools, but he can’t even remember Mr. Wallace. By Loki’s math… it isn’t adding up.

This time she laughs outright. “It’s _mine_ ,” she exclaims, still laughing. “Well, many of the tools are my father’s,” she admits, “but I’m the one he taught to use them. Neither of my kids had the knack, though, let alone the interest. They just weren’t cut out for this type of thing. Never marry a city boy,” she tells them both, shaking a bony finger at them. “This is what you get… kids who just don’t love it here.”

Loki smirks. “I’ll try not to,” he says, even though this is awkward. Beside him, Thor nods.

“My father made a lot of the woodwork in this house,” she says. That’s impressive as hell, plus Loki’s glad for a change of subject. “My uncle did the rest. And the two of them built all the cabinets. Over the years I made a new piece any time something got damaged, but my own tastes ran more towards art. Bowls and such,” she explains. “Most of it’s sold, or packed away, but one of my favorites is out in the parlor.”

“That’s _yours_ ,” Thor blurts out. He covers his mouth with both hands. “I’m sorry,” he says through his fingers. His face flushes bright red. “That was so rude of me. It’s just- I saw that bowl when I was cleaning. It’s amazing.”

Mrs. Wallace smiles again, with her whole face. “It’s so nice of you to say that,” she tells Thor, and then her eyes narrow. “Do _you_ like woodworking?”

Loki elbows his brother in the ribs. Of everything they’ve studied, ever, there’s nothing he can remember that’s engaged Thor more fully. Not even the tractor. Certainly not football. “Uh,” Thor says, half grunting. “I’ve only gotten to do a little bit of it, in school. But I loved it.”

“Good,” she says briskly. “Look, I hate to rush you boys out but I have to leave for an appointment. In fact, my friend should be here any minute now to give me a ride. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow. Now don’t let me forget, you hear?”

They both promise. Loki knows this will be an easy one to keep.


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time to unearth the woodshop... and... er...

It takes about a week for Loki and Thor to get very good at cleaning and sharpening old tools. While Thor has more of a knack for using them – it’s not that Loki isn’t artistic; he’s just never really felt the urge to work in this particular medium – after a few days Loki really has putting a good edge on whatever they happen to be cleaning down cold.

Mrs. Wallace spends a couple of days getting them started. She provides endlessly patient tutorials on sharpening stones and honing oil and how not to breathe in any of the more toxic cleaners. There’s a lot to learn, and at first they are all thumbs. At least, they’re more thumbs than fingers.

After they master the basics, though, she goes back up to the house and they’re on their own.

~

For such hot work, it’s surprisingly soothing. Loki does realize that Thor’s just itching to get enough of the tools cleaned and reconditioned that the two of them (okay, right, the _one_ of them) can actually try making something, but knowing that is the only thing that has him rushing. If he was here alone, Loki’s sure, he could smooth plane after plane until every sole in the place was mirror-bright.

He’s not half bad with the wood chisels, either.

Their biggest project, though, and the one that really inspires his brother – so much so that Thor can barely go five minutes without talking about it, no matter _what_ they’re doing – is the lathe.

The lathe that produced (among many other things, to hear her talk of it) that stunning bowl. The one that holds a lofty, well-deserved place of honor in Mrs. Wallace’s parlor.

~

At first they work separately. Loki goes after the turning tools, painstakingly cleaning and sharpening all the little chisels, while Thor tackles the years of caked-on dirt and sludge with a big bottle of nontoxic degreaser. The air around them smells like a hundred oranges. It’s even that way first thing in the morning, like they’re working in a giant vat of sports drink… or cough syrup. They can smell and taste the stuff, even at home. Well before they’re done it gets a little gross.

They make quick work of things anyway; it isn’t long at all before they’re left with the lathe’s engine itself and Thor needs an extra pair of hands. _Loki’s_ hands. Not to mention Loki’s muscles.

It’s heavy, dirty work and by the end of each day his thighs, biceps, and shoulders are burning.

Every bit of suffering is worth it, though. Both Loki and Thor find their project immensely rewarding; they love watching the pile of filthy parts shrink while the corresponding pile of clean, shiny, lightly-oiled ones grows. If the two of them can keep up this pace, Loki expects, Thor will actually be able to try making something before they go back to school in the fall. He vows to make that happen.

~

When they need a break, they stop back up to the house and tell Mrs. Wallace all about their progress. Sometimes Loki takes a nicely-sharpened chisel with him. He likes the matter-of-fact way she inspects his work; it makes her compliments, which come more and more often the longer he and his brother keep at their labors, feel all the more real.

On increasingly rare occasion she even comes down to the workshop to watch as they clean. The three of them joke about how the whole building smells like an explosion in an orange juice factory. Thor and Loki clean her up a chair so she can sit and keep them company longer. When she isn’t feeling up to visiting the shop for more than a day or so, the two of them find they miss her. They stop up to the house more often, until she laughs and says they’ll never get done if they spend all their time socializing.

Sometimes she’s feeling farther under the weather than usual and doesn’t come down to the barn for a several days in a row. Loki worries, then – they both do, although Thor tends to shy away from discussing it – but she waves him off and assures him she’s fine. “It’s just a lot of work being old,” she tells him when he pushes. “When your turn comes, you’ll understand. Trust me.”

He thinks it’s a lot of work being young, really, but he doesn’t say so. Instead he pats her hand gently and tells her they miss her. “You’ll be really surprised the next time stop in,” he promises. “We’re actually done taking the lathe apart and have started putting it back together.”

They trade smart remarks about flying pigs and about the devil needing a new wool jacket. Despite his worrying Loki is very glad all of them - he and his brother and Mrs. Wallace – are getting to spend this last summer of freedom (which isn’t really all that free now, come to think of it… but it still feels good) together.

~

As the season wears on Mrs. Wallace doesn’t come out to the barn for weeks at a time. Thor and Loki take turns going up to the house to help out with lunch and visiting Blue and Jonah in the main barn. Every time Loki asks Mrs. Wallace if she’s feeling any better, she laughs and assures him she’s saving her strength for when they finally have everything ready to go. “We’re cleaning the dust vacuum now,” he tells her at one point. “It won’t be much longer.”

“Good,” she says, “because I sure do miss watching you two.”

~

They still take breaks, even when she isn’t visiting. Normally they go up to the house and keep her company. Sometimes, though, the pull of hour upon hour spent together getting sweaty and dirty and beautiful and strong is just too much to fight and they fall into one another’s arms instead. The two of them have just enough presence of mind to duck into one of the corners of the workshop, out of sight of the windows and doors, before they kiss and kiss and kiss – open-mouthed and frantic – until they’re panting for breath and their jaws are aching.

It’s too public a setting, and their hands are two dirty; they never really get much beyond the making out. Loki runs his hands up and down his brother’s bare, muscled arms; Thor touches Loki’s face as though it’s made of porcelain and then crushes their mouths together with enough force to grind the real thing into so much dust.

Sometimes Thor’s so rough that he draws blood.

Loki quickly learns that – when it happens - he can retaliate by nipping at his brother’s lips _just so_ and make Thor moan beautifully.

That’s right about where they are when Mrs. Wallace happens upon them.

“Oh, my word,” she says. Loki lets out a startled little shriek as he and his brother jump apart.

“Uh-,” Thor says. “Um. Crap.” They’re both still panting. Loki is confident he’s never, ever wanted to die more.

“I’m so sorry,” he starts, but she just waves him off.

“Hush, you,” she tells him, smiling a little as she regains her composure. “Both of you. I should have called out hello. It’s just- I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you certainly did,” Loki assures her. His voice cracks a little. He’s not sure what to make of the way she- just doesn’t seem angry. She _should_ be. He doubts his own face can get any redder. Thor’s certainly can’t. “Still, I-.”

Mrs. Wallace looks at him, frowning. “Surely you didn’t think I don’t know,” she starts, and then she laughs again. “Boys, boys. It’s written all over you. You’re like an old married couple. In a good way, I mean, but… still. I’m not blind.”

“You’re not- we’re not-,” Thor tries again, still stumbling over himself. “Aren’t you mad at us?”

“Not at all,” she says. “But do your parents know? Because I don’t want any part of keeping secrets. You’ll get the three of us in big trouble.”

The two of them both nod, then shake their heads. “Yeah,” Loki says a little tiredly. This is awfully stressful. “They found out while we were in Europe.” He clears his throat. “They’re more okay with it than I ever thought they would be.”

“After the bar you set with that Amora girl,” she reminds him, “how could they be anything but elated?”


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't always work the way you expect it to.

On the first of August, in the first minute after midnight - which he _knows_ because he's just closed their laptop so he can go curl up in bed with his lightly-snoring brother - Loki sees a shooting star. If he hadn't been standing right by the nightstand, he never would have noticed it; any time you get closer to the window, one of the big hardwoods blocks most of the view.

The meteorite blazes white-blue-orange across the sky. Loki blinks and tries to make a wish but can't settle on _just one_ fast enough. The sky goes dark and still. Even though he doesn't believe in _that kind of thing_ , Loki shudders. The whole business feels like a- a portent. An omen. A sign.

~

The next day they put the finishing touches on the woodshop. With Mrs. Wallace's cheerful blessing, Loki hovers like an overprotective mama bear as Thor gives the lathe a first try. What his brother makes isn't a bowl, for certain. It's not really a knob, even. But neither of them loses a finger, or an eye, and Mrs. Wallace assures them that with the right amount of sanding and the right wax, their whatever-it-is will be lovely.

"Don't throw it away," she cautions when Thor pronounces the thing a piece of crap. "You'll never make another first turned carving. Keep it. Finish it. Over time you'll come to treasure it." She takes it from him and inspects it closely, turning it this way and that. "This is perfect,” she says, holding it up to the light. “Trust me; you'll see."

~

Loki gets a crash course in proper sanding technique after lunch. Thor moves on, trying another block of wood and a slightly different approach, but Loki desperately wants to follow Mrs. Wallace's advice.

"If he carves it and you finish it, it becomes a part of both of you," she encourages Loki when his fingers are sore and he's getting a little frustrated.

That? That right there is enough to hook him.

~

Thor and Loki both expect the wax to smell like solvent. It doesn’t. It's a beeswax blend, and it just smells faintly sweet. It's a nice smell, really. Loki likes it. He likes doing this. He likes being able to take what his brother starts and make it perfect.

When Thor stops what he's doing to check Loki's progress, and gasps as he realizes just how pretty their little wooden curio has become, Loki suddenly likes doing it even more.

~

All too soon the afternoon is almost over. The two of them would love to rush home and show what they’ve made to their parents; now that the piece is done, even Thor has to admit that it’s beautiful. The wood is walnut, Mrs. Wallace explains, from out in the woodlot that borders their farm. The wax really highlights its interesting grain.

Still, she suggests, Loki should give it one more coat of wax tomorrow.

Reluctantly, they tear themselves away and go finish their chores before heading back to their own homestead… empty-handed.

~

Fortunately, Frigga'd thought to leave both a prominently placed note _and_ some dinner. Loki and Thor had gotten so caught up in _woodworking_ that they'd completely forgotten: their parents are at someone's retirement dinner. The big event is all the way across the city, and - Frigga writes; _this_ they would have remembered - she and Odin have finally decided to get a room.

Meaning, _stay the night_.

They have the whole place to themselves, from now until it's time to feed Blue and Jonah breakfast.

Loki's taken to calling the goat Jonette, but not in front of Mrs. Wallace. Doing so feels mean, and he doesn’t want to be mean. Not at her place, in their sanctuary.

~

"What do you want to do," Thor mouths against Loki's ear as the two of them - far too close together on the couch for such hot, sticky weather - finish up the last messy bites of a delicious greek cucumber salad. Their lips are slippery. Their fingers are slippery. Their bodies smell like fresh-sawn wood and beeswax and sweat.

What they _should_ do is shower.

They don't. Not right away, anyway.

~

 _Doing it for real_ turns out to be way too much like working the lathe.

It's a lot more difficult than it looks, for starters.

Bodies don't come with instructions. There isn't nearly enough information written on the tin, and even careful past reading of the basics- doesn't get them there.

Vegetable shortening does turn out to be quite slippery, almost dangerously so, and it’s cold enough straight out of the refrigerator to make Loki scream. They both _get it_ , too, even in their terrified, lust-addled excitement: you scoop some out with a spoon _first_ and don't go dipping your gross fingers straight into the container.

They get where it goes. After Thor make him shriek, Loki rubs some between his shaking hands to warm it and then smoothes it all over _certain key parts_ of his brother… even though his own butt feels like a slip-n-slide and he has no idea how he's going to ever clean himself up enough to wear clothes again.

They're even sure how things fit together. And they're not wrong, exactly.

They get nowhere at first, so Thor- tries harder.

It works.

Success, if you want to call it that, hurts like nothing Loki's ever felt before.

Right about the point where he’s not sure he can take it anymore – in other words, about thirty seconds later - it’s over. He’s shaking and crying and Thor’s yanked out and made a mess all over everything and then they’re both on the floor in a rocking, crying heap. His brother apologizes over and over and Loki abruptly laughs and can’t stop and by the time _that’s_ done his body feels a little less like it’s been torn in two and he can almost imagine walking again.

Not right away, though.

~

“Maybe we need more practice,” Thor suggests when they’ve finally caught their breath and are curled up together on an old blanket in front of the sofa.

“Oh god,” Loki blurts out. “Not tonight!” And then he starts laughing again, right on the edge of hysteria.

“Are you okay,” Thor asks him, sounding really concerned this time.

Loki shifts a little. It hurts, and he winces. “I think so?”

~

A shower, long and much too hot for an early August evening, helps. They kiss deep and slow under the spray, Loki balancing on shaky legs and Thor holding him almost painfully tightly, until the enormity of what just they’ve just done overwhelms them. They’ve given each other everything. Neither of them will ever be here again. In an endless line of firsts, stretching as far as the eye can see in either direction, this was a _one_ and an _only_.

The two of them kiss and cry and kiss some more until they use up all the hot water… and then they wrap up in soft towels and kiss (and cry) some more.

~

It’s very late when they get themselves to bed. When they’d finally had their fill of kissing (for now), Loki’d hobbled around the parlor picking up their mess while Thor’d cleaned up the dinner dishes and thrown the filthy blanket into the washing machine.

Once the blanket had made it safely to the dryer, they’d brushed their teeth and touched each other’s faces – carefully, awed – as though they were only really seeing each other for the first time.

Thor holds Loki close against his chest. “I love you,” he rumbles into Loki’s hair. His voice has gotten surprisingly low recently, and Loki adores it. “More than anything in the universe. And it’ll get better. I promise. Or else we can just do other stuff,” he goes on. He’s babbling, in his deep, sexy voice, and that makes Loki giggle.

“It’s fine,” Loki promises. “Go to sleep.”

~

3:00 AM, the clock reads.

Loki’s still lying there awake, suffering quietly and thinking far more than he ever meant to about his _lost virginity_.

There really is a first time for everything.

_Everything._


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plans, plans, and more plans.

Mrs. Wallace is in the hospital, Frigga knows. She’d gotten the phone call shortly before bedtime last night, when the boys were off bothering Odin in his office. “It should only be a couple of days,” Mrs. Wallace had assured her. “But I’d like you to tell your darling sons where my spare key is hidden, so they can use the bathroom if they need to.”

Frigga had played along, promising to make sure her kids didn’t slack on their chores and asking whether or not it was okay for them to use the woodworking tools while they were there unsupervised (“Of course it is,” Mrs. Wallace had assured her. “My husband and I were _married_ already when we were barely more than their age, for the love of God. Married and running a farm”).

Inside, though, she’d been worried.

It’s almost the end of her workday, and she’s _still worried_.

~

“What if she actually doesn’t come home,” Frigga asks Odin once she’s put her bag away and poured herself some water. “Loki and Thor will be devastated, sure, but what about the animals? The two of them can’t just keep poking around over there once she’s- once she’s gone.” She wipes her nose; she’s right on the edge of crying. It’s hard to imagine life without her forever neighbor, even without taking into consideration how crushed the kids will be.

Odin leans back in his chair, elbows resting on its arms, and steeples his fingers. “What if we buy it?”

She blinks. “If we buy wh- the farm?” It takes her a moment to really process what he’s said. “Do you honestly think she would sell it to us?”

He shrugs. “Her own kids don’t want it. She’s paying our boys to help her stay there until the end, except no one has told them that’s what they’re doing. I don’t know,” he admits, “but I think it’s worth a try. We could guarantee her the right to live there until she dies – a life estate, maybe, or whatever our lawyer recommends – and also be sure we know what will happen to the land after she’s gone.”

“Which is?”

He smiles. “Lots of options. We can rent out the house, or let the boys live in it once they’re in college and it’s clear they can take care of themselves. If Loki really wants to stay here,” he points out, “we’re all going to be stumbling over one another in here before too long. I love them to pieces, but I don’t think we’re up to living in a commune.”

Frigga chews the inside of her lip for a solid minute. “And what if he _doesn’t_ want to stay here- there, once he can? What if neither of them does?”

“Then we put whatever we don’t need on the market,” Odin says. “We won’t be any worse off than we would be by doing nothing. Plus,” he teases, “it will give me somewhere to go if you kick me out.”

“Now you’re talking,” she shoots back, and they both end up laughing.

Odin leans forward again. He reaches across the desk and takes her hands in his own big, warm ones. “It’s what I would want,” he says, “if I was in her shoes.”

“Yes,” Frigga agrees, and this is really the heart of it. “Me too.”

“Let’s think on it overnight,” her husband suggests. “If it still sounds like the way to go come morning, I’ll talk to our lawyer and see what we can do.”

“And then we have a family meeting?”

“With Mrs. Wallace, first,” Odin says. “I don’t want to get Thor’s and Loki’s hopes up, only to find she’s already sold the place to someone.”

Frigga privately doubts that’s happened… Mrs. Wallace has never been great with secrets. If nothing else, the boys would know. But she nods anyway. “Fair enough,” she concedes. “Just let me know what you want me to do.”

“Right now,” he tells her, “I simply want you to cross your fingers for this.”

She does, and holds them up to show him. “Already on it. Way ahead of you.”

He takes her hand and kisses her fingers. “You always are. Thank you.”

_For you, love_ , she thinks, _anything_.

Plus, it’s really not a bad plan, after all.

~

Loki and Thor take advantage of Mrs. Wallace’s unscheduled absence to give the place a really thorough cleaning. They dust and scrub and polish and put away clutter until the whole house sparkles.

Their father tells them she’s given Loki permission to drive her car. 

He can’t even.

The day she’s scheduled to come home, though, Loki slides (fearful and hesitant, yes; he hasn’t driven since Thor wrecked their own car ages ago) into the front seat and heads out on a grocery run.

~

“I could almost live here,” Loki tells his brother later on as they proudly survey the results of their labors. The glass in the window over the kitchen sink is so clean it almost vanishes, and a big bowl of fresh fruit sits jauntily on the counter. The place doesn’t even look like an old person’s house anymore.

“That would be fun,” Thor says, wrapping his arms around Loki’s waist from behind and pulling his brother into a warm embrace. “You could move here, I could stay home with mom and dad… and we could do _sleepovers_.”

“Sleepovers,” Loki echoes, laughing. He lays his own hands over his brother’s and twists back for a sloppy kiss. “I’m pretty sure there wouldn’t be much _sleeping_.”

“How is that a problem,” Thor asks into his hair.

Loki wriggles. “Oh, it isn’t one.”

~

It’s hard to catch her when the kids aren’t around – they practically live next door now… and with her just back from the hospital they hover like crazy, worse than their own mother – but Odin finally gets a chance to meet with Mrs. Wallace a few days after she comes back home.

“Your kids love it here,” she says as he carefully hugs her hello. She’s so frail these days; there’s nothing to her, and that makes him sad. “I think I should leave the place to them.”

Odin opens and closes his mouth a few times. He feels like a giant, stupid fish. “Um, yeah,” he says. He’s every bit Thor’s father. “Actually,” he begins again, forcing himself back into his quietly assured work persona, “Frigga and I would like to buy the farm from you.”

~

“She’s good with it,” he says when his wife meets him at the door. “I think she would _give_ them the place if we’d let her.”

“Which we _won’t_ ,” Frigga emphasizes.

Odin smiles. “Of course not.”

The hardest part, he thinks, is going to be keeping all this a secret until Loki and Thor are old enough to make good, informed choices. Maybe Frigga _will_ have to (kick him out, and) send him over there after all, just to give it all a plausible explanation.

“We’ll make it work,” Frigga promises. She’s a mind-reader. “I would say _don’t worry_ , but I know there’s no chance of _that_ happening.”

“No chance at all,” he agrees. “Zip. Zilch. Zero.”


	65. Chapter 65

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer winds down with a little party.

Summer feels like it's over and done in the blink of an eye. _If what they say about time flying as we get older is true_ , Loki thinks, _in a few years I'll go take a leak and miss my summer completely_.

He and his brother have gotten a lot accomplished. Blue and Jonah are well fed and perky, the house and barn are reasonably clean and neat, and the two of them have now made and finished three perfectly serviceable bowls. No one is going to mistake their pieces for serious art, not yet.

Still, they're nice enough bowls and they make Loki happy.

The two of them have even kept most of the way up with their own chores, too, the ones they do for their parents. Loki thinks their dad may be helping them out a little behind the scenes. If so, it's nothing Odin is admitting.

After their first questionable success at _going all the way_ , they've not had the place to themselves long enough for another try. They've settled back into a comfortable routine of shower handjobs and long, enthusiastic bedtime makeout sessions.

If Frigga has noticed the crazy rate at which her boys go through hand towels, she’s opted not to mention it.

They’re grateful.

~

The week before school starts, they get a short break from the heat: three gloriously dry, lovely 75-degree days. Their parents have taken Friday off, just because, and no one is complaining. Loki and Thor race through the morning routine. Afterwards Loki heads home to help Frigga prepare a picnic feast while Odin and Thor set Mrs. Wallace's neatly mowed, shade-dappled side yard up for a little party.

As Loki drives back and forth with carloads of fixin's - tablecloth and napkins, silverware and plates and glasses, three bean salad and greek salad, cornbread and ham and two different casseroles... and, last but absolutely not least, fudgy brownies that could be a meal in themselves - Thor helps his father move Mrs. Wallace's favorite chair outside. When it's time to eat, they move Mrs. Wallace outside too.

She's not heavy, not for two strong men. They use one of her sturdy handcrafted dining room chairs as a makeshift litter, and she's able to transfer herself to her soft side chair as soon as she finishes giggling madly. Frigga brings a stadium blanket to protect her spindly legs from the relative chill. Loki goes out to the car to fetch three gallons of homemade lemonade and the big glass server.

They all sit around the picnic table for a few minutes, chatting happily and enjoying one another’s company. Everyone is cheerful and relaxed. It’s perfect.

Before they dig in Mrs. Wallace wants to say grace. Loki and Thor don't laugh and they don't snark, because this is her home and her party.

That, and she just thanks God for them anyway. It's hard to get bent out of shape about that.

After all the thanking, and a sweet little speech in which Mrs. Wallace tells them all she wishes her own kids could be there to enjoy this and everyone cries, they pass the plates around and dig in.

~

Frigga has never been more proud of her boys. They treat Mrs. Wallace like a queen, hopping up to get her anything she needs and talking with her like they do their own parents. It's the perfectly heartbreaking end to a perfectly heartbreaking summer. She’s sure just watching them that her sons will remember this forever.

When they're done eating and telling stories and eating some more, Odin and Thor patiently tote Mrs. Wallace back indoors. Frigga sends her men – her husband and the boys - home to deal with the dishes and leftovers; it’s something that needs to get done promptly, and her kids can deal with the picnic table and benches when they come back to feed the animals later.

It’s also a handy diversion.

Frigga helps Mrs. Wallace use the bathroom, and then reads to her quietly until she dozes off.

Long after Mrs. Wallace is asleep Frigga stays, all afternoon even, reading (to herself) and keeping an eye on things. The picnic meant more activity than normal, and more excitement, and she's not leaving until she's certain Mrs. Wallace isn't the worse for it.

When her sons come back over to the farm before dinner and stop up to the house to say hello, Frigga pretends she's dozed off as well. She almost has, actually, and more than once at that. In the end it's hardly even lying.

“You’re a dear,” Mrs. Wallace tells her as she collects the last of her things. “But I’ll be fine, really.”

~

Senior year has always been sold to them as the best part of high school. It’s supposed to be that one last hurrah before you go off to college; parties, skipping classes, living it up without any real consequences. Suffice it to say whoever generated that rumor has not met Thor. Or even Loki, for that matter.

The two of them are so busy they can barely catch their breath.

Thor is up _before_ the crack of dawn to run – it’s not light enough to ride his bike safely, not on the poorly-maintained country roads they put up with around here – over to Mrs. Wallace’s farm. Loki showers while his brother is gone and then picks Thor up afterwards in Frigga’s car. They come home together and wolf down breakfast. The bus picks them up at the bottom of the hill.

They both do their homework during classes now, Loki because he needs to catch the early bus home and do both their chores (rather than just because he isn’t supposed to, although that’s always a nice perk) and Thor because of football.

On the nights Thor has practice, Loki takes the school bus home to pick up Frigga’s car and comes back to collect his brother afterwards. They go to the barn together. Loki does the night feeding while Thor works on the lathe. It’s hard to sand properly by the light of a few ceiling-mounted bare bulbs, so Loki takes anything worth doing home. He works on the in-progress pieces on the back steps, whenever he first gets home from school.

The two of them tag team to make sure Mrs. Wallace gets breakfast and dinner. They’re not able to be there during the day, though – their mother is sadly not interested in letting them skip school to keep their elderly neighbor company – so an aide stops by to help out with what they all call _the basics_.

When Mrs. Wallace can’t get down to the barn, Thor and Loki bring their projects up to show her so they can solicit her feedback.

It’s different when Thor has a game. Those days, Loki goes over to the neighboring farm alone. He helps Mrs. Wallace with her meal and then reads to her or sits with her and watches TV.

~

By the time they’re both home and done with their own (late) dinner, Loki and Thor are too tired to do much of anything. They laze around until Frigga and Odin have gone to bed before staggering into the shower together. More than half the time they’re too tired for anything more than a cursory soaping.

The rest of the time, they make up for it.

~

“Are you two okay,” Frigga asks them occasionally. “I don’t want you running yourselves into the ground.”

They smile, a little tiredly. “You only live once,” they tell her, laughing.

“Besides,” Loki says, “Mrs. Wallace doesn’t have forever. We need to be there for her while we can.”

“You’re wonderful,” she tells them. She smiles and pulls them in for a hug, even thought they tower over her now. “The best kids I could ever hope for.”

“Moooommmmm,” Loki complains. Even so, she notices they both squeeze her a little tighter.


	66. Chapter 66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one ever leaves well enough alone.

Thor slides into the empty chair next to his brother’s. “Hey,” he says quietly, so the sophomores down at the other end of the table can’t hear. “You okay?” Loki looks by turns anxious and sad and almost angry; his brother’s face is a rapidly-changing kaleidoscope of emotions. 

Loki looks down at his own hands. He picks at a hangnail. With all this barn duty and woodworking, Thor knows, the two of them both desperately need to find better hand cream. “It’s nothing,” he says. Thor doesn’t believe him, not for a second, and he’s quick to say so. “Okay, fine,” Loki concedes with a long sigh. “It’s not _nothing_ , it’s just stupid.”

“I promise I won’t laugh,” Thor says. He means it, too; he’s not sure he could laugh if he wanted to. He’s overwhelmingly anxious, to the point where his palms are sweating. Loki hasn’t looked this down, or seemed this stressed, in a long time now. They’ve both been tired, sure – juggling the random pieces of their lives isn’t easy and it keeps them far too busy a lot of time – but his brother has been generally upbeat and engaged and- not like this. Not anymore. “Please?”

“Oh, I’m not worried about you laughing,” Loki says drily. “It’s more that you’ll be pissed at me.”

That doesn’t help with the anxious feelings. Not at all. “Well,” he tells his brother, “all I can say is that I’ll try not to be.” He sits back in his chair and tries his best to look patient and calm. Or something.

“I-,” Loki starts eventually, “I know this is- I’m not sure- oh, fuck.” He rakes his hands through his hair, leaving it half out of its ponytail. It looks a lot better than it ought to. Thor’s careful not to say so, not now. It won’t be well received.

If nothing else, he’s learning.

He’s learning that he loves a peaceful, happy life with his brother and sometimes it takes a little self-sacrifice now and again to stay there.

“Amora-,” Loki says, and Thor goes ice cold. “She’s with Heimdall now. And it bothers me. Not because I want her back,” his brother explains quickly, “I don’t. Never, ever, not in a million years.”

Thor watches Loki’s face. His brother looks away. “But,” Thor asks softly. He knows there’s a _but_ , just from the way Loki’s acting.

His brother slumps down in the battered stacking cafeteria chair. “But she’s done all sorts of awful stuff, and yet she and her new boyfriend can proudly parade their _love_ ” – Loki adds big air quotes – “in front of everyone. The worst anyone says is _I hope the guy’s keeping a watch on his wallet_ , and even half of them are secretly envious. Whereas I- you and I- it’s like we have some horrible plague.”

_Oh_. Okay, Thor can guess at what his brother must be feeling. It’s really not fair, not the way Amora treated both Loki _and_ the people he and his brother care about. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “It sucks. It sucks that we’re pretty good people and yet she-.”

“Don’t,” Loki snaps. Thor freezes. “Just _don’t_.”

“Loki,” he calls out as his brother stomps away across the crowded lunchroom. “ _LOKI!_ ”

“Good riddance,” one of the linebackers says, leaning down to set his tray on the table. “Just let the little fag-.”

The guy never finishes his sentence, because Thor takes quick aim and decks him.

~

“I hate to cause trouble but I’m really not okay with this, Mr. Coulson,” Frigga says as Thor and Loki sit along the way outside the principal’s office. Thor has his arms crossed; Loki is slouched as low as possible, with his legs splayed wide. Her eldest looks tense and defensive; her youngest, furious. “I mean, I agree that nothing is solved by hitting, and my boys know better, but how many times do the other students get to call my youngest terrible, hurtful names before anyone does anything about it?”

She’s angry this time, and – as much as she probably should - Frigga no longer cares who knows it.

“You’re right,” Mr., Coulson agrees. “And I’m sorry. But Thor-.”

Inwardly, she rolls her eyes. “Yes, I know,” she says. “Thor’s suspended.”

Mr. Coulson frowns. “No, he’s just earned a few days’ detention. The boy who insulted Loki is the one we’ve given a week off.”

Both her sons shift in their seats. “Don’t think this means you’re getting off easy, Thor Odinson,” she warns. “Because two-.”

“-wrongs don’t make a right, mom,” Thor says. “Believe me, I know.”

~

Frigga does let them both go next door to feed Blue and Jonah when they first get home, although Thor is under strict orders to come straight home without so much as setting one foot in the woodshop. Loki, who isn’t in trouble for once, stops up to the house to help Mrs. Wallace with her own dinner.

“I screwed up,” he tells her a bit reluctantly when she asks him why he seems so unhappy. “I said the wrong thing and now Thor’s in trouble.”

Mrs. Wallace patiently pries the story out of him, bit by halting bit, between careful bites of her sandwich. She’s having a little trouble swallowing without choking these days and – she’s told Loki, rather apologetically - her swallowing therapist has instructed her to pay close attention while she’s eating and to avoid dangerous distractions. “You know, sweetie,” she says when he finally finishes explaining, “that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. That young man should be expelled. Not _your brother_ ,” she clarifies when Loki gasps. “The other one. The one who called you that horrible name.”

Loki manages a weak little smile. It’s been an awful day. “You’re the best,” he tells Mrs. Wallace. “Thank you.”

~

“This needs to stop,” the coach tells Thor the following Tuesday (when he’s been allowed back to practice for the first time since the cafeteria incident). “I don’t care what you do in your personal time, but this is creating too large a disturbance.”

“You want me to stop-,” Thor prompts, because he’s not quite sure what they’re really talking about.

“-seeing your brother,” his coach finishes. “As anything more than a brother, I mean. It’s not good for you, it’s not good for him… it’s not good for anyone.”

“It’s not good for _football_ , you mean,” Thor says flatly. He stands up and pushes his chair in. It scrapes across the floor loudly. He may have been raised in a barn, but his parents taught him decent manners anyway. “Well, I won’t cause any further trouble… because I’m done.”

~

“I quit football,” Thor tells Loki as his brother measures out a serving of oats for Blue. “Now we’ll be able to spend more time together.”

Loki’s mouth hangs open. Literally. “You- you- you _quit??_ Seriously??” His eyebrows disappear up into his hair. “Crap. Mom’s going to kill me.”


	67. Chapter 67

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time marches on.

Frigga and Odin stroll along the near edge of the woodlot, just as late afternoon fades to dusk. It's well into fall now. Many-colored leaves crackle and glow underfoot, and there's a bracing bite to the wind. She's lived here so long that she can't even begin to imagine life _different_. Still, she supposes, change is inevitable.

"Is this our fault," she asks her husband. "Should we have pulled them out of this school district years ago, at the first sign of trouble?"

"And done what with them, exactly," Odin asks. He's right, of course; this is a small community and it's not like there are a lot of options. "Sent them to the parochial school over by the library? Because I bet no one discriminates against gay incest _there_."

His sarcasm makes her laugh, even though there’s not one thing about the whole situation that’s funny. "Have we tried too hard to cling to the farm, though? Should we have moved into the city?"

Odin sighs. "Someday when our sons are older we can ask them. But they love it here. I- it doesn't seem like something they would have been willing to trade. Wanting, anyway."

She nods. "I know, I know. I just don't- I hate to see them suffer like this."

"People suck sometimes," Odin reminds her. "That's not anything we could hide from them forever."

Frigga roots into his pocket to take his warm hand in her cold one. He gives her fingers a squeeze. "Do you think Thor's really okay with his decision," she asks. She's so full of worries recently that she's starting to remind herself of Loki.

"To quit the team," Odin confirms; she nods. "Honestly, I think he was pretty done with it a long time ago."

That startles her. She stops suddenly, throwing them both off balance and pulling her husband abruptly around to face her. "He told you that?" _And where was I_ , she wonders. When had her boys become so comfortable around their dad that they could talk to him easily as they could their mother?

He smirks at her. "It's a guy thing," he teases.

She turns to walk again, pulling him closer, and then elbows him sharply in the side.

~

"I just don't like it is all. Drop it, Thor!" Loki throws the block of curly maple he's been inspecting back onto the pile; it flies a few feet and lands with a sharp clack. "Jesus," he huffs.

Thor starts to take a step closer but rethinks touching his brother as Loki growls. "I know you don't believe me," he tells his brother, "but I quit because I wanted to. It hasn't been fun for a while. It wasn't because of you, not really, and I'm not going to hate you for it later on. See," he adds as Loki winces. "You're not the _big mystery_ you think you are sometimes. I know what you're really upset about."

"As if," Loki snaps. Just the same, Thor can't help but notice that his brother goes back to rooting through the wood with a bit less savagery.

"I liked that one," he chances, pointing. "The one you set down just now." It's a long, narrow block. The grain is beautiful, and he loves it even more now that his brother has flung it.

"Threw, more like it," Loki corrects. But if he looks closely - and Thor does - he can see that his brother's almost smiling.

~

This bowl takes a couple of weeks to finish. They take turns hand-carving it - the piece has an odd sort of symmetry that isn't suited to turning - but when they're finally done the bowl itself is a wonderful one. It's a pointed oval, long and graceful and smooth as glass. "It's meant to be reminiscent of a Viking longboat," Thor explains when Loki asks what had inspired him. The work is theirs, but the design itself was his own entirely.

"Oh, please." Loki snorts. "Longboats curve up at prow and stern. It's a football."

They meet each other's eyes and burst out laughing. "The death of football," Loki teases. He turns the bowl over in his hands. "Eh, whatever it is, I love it."

Thor loves it too. "I think this will be our parlor bowl," he says.

Loki sets the bowl down very, very carefully on the workbench, along with the last of his tools, and then hugs Thor fiercely.

~

Even though he knows he's her last choice when it comes to the members of his little family - he grew up here, after all, so he remembers her _city slicker_ husband and the days when her children still lived at home - Odin takes to stopping over and checking on Mrs. Wallace most every lunchtime. "It's no bother," he assures her. "Working from home gets a little tiresome anyway." In truth, he's even been driving back here to visit with her on the days he's had to go into the office. He knows better than to admit that, though. She's old enough to be his mother and plenty loud enough to act like it.

Every week she's a little slower, a little more frail. He really, really hopes she can hold out 'til graduation.

Well, actually, he hopes she'll live forever. _If wishing only made things so_ , he thinks as he shovels a couple of inches of new snow off her sidewalk, _the world would be so much nicer_.

~

Winter settles in for real. The shop has a woodstove, but the big cast iron thing is ancient and more than a little terrifying. It also comes up to heating temperature far too slowly to be of any real use in the relatively narrow window between school and dinner. Neither Loki nor Thor is comfortable leaving it going during the day unattended, even after Odin offers to feed it at lunchtime... not with the shop connected to the barn. If something were to go wrong they would hate themselves forever. Instead they give in and spend a (cold) weekend oiling all the tools and gently, sadly packing everything away for the season.

~

At Mrs. Wallace's request, Thor installs a pet flap in the cheap wooden door off the back of the lean-to. The barn cats spend their nights there, in a heap of old horse blankets Loki'd found them, curled up enjoying the warmth that seeps out all along the top of the old foundation.

More and more nights, actually, the cats sleep inside. Mrs. Wallace feigns ignorance. Loki buys them a couple of litter boxes and cat litter anyway.

~

While Thor shovels, Loki makes cocoa. He's not being lazy; he's the one who did the sidewalks at home, after all. He makes Mrs. Wallace a bowl of vegetable soup and half a cheese sandwich. When he heads into the living room to set up her tray table, he has to stop in the doorway for a minute and smile. The warm smells of soup and cocoa drift up and envelop him.

Mrs. Wallace has not one but two cats curled up in her chair with her, with a third waiting by her feet. The best part, though? She's actually _reading_ to them.


	68. Chapter 68

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Home" for the holidays.

Time, Frigga keeps reminding them, has reached the point where it’s really, really of the essence. The two of them need to start applying for college, like it or not, because (although they’re not quite sure they understand why not) they can’t just go on working in Mrs. Wallace’s barn forever. When they balk about that part, their mother agrees to a compromise: they _can_ , for example, choose woodworking or animal caretaking as what they’d like to do with their adult lives… but they have to finish college. “If any of this is what you’d really like to do,” she tells them, “I don’t mind. Neither does your father. It’s just that we don’t want you ‘choosing’ it solely because it’s easiest to stay in your respective comfort zones. This way, you’ll know for sure that it’s right for you.” She smiles at them both as they glare at her. “And I’ll know, too. Humor me.”

~

Loki is determined to stay on the farm. Thor doesn’t have the same strong feelings about it, but he’s equally determined about something of his own; he’s going to stay with Loki. It’s a battle even Frigga clearly recognizes is not worth fighting; she doesn’t even bother to try.

Most of the schools in the area accept the Common App, so both Loki and Thor – neither of whom is anywhere near as motivated about the whole process as their parents would like, if you go by the steady nagging – complete one. One each, that is, despite how Thor had done his best to get Loki to write both their essays.

His brother had arched an eyebrow and made a small disgusted sound. “Seriously? What,” Loki’d asked, “did you somehow manage to break all your fingers? It only has to be _250 words_ , Thor. You could write that much in a few minutes.”

“Sure,” Thor had agreed, even though he hadn’t been particularly certain. “But it will be so much better if you write it.”

“It will be so much _not yours_ if I write it,” Loki had corrected. “And what do you think you’re going to do when you actually get in somewhere? Have me write all your papers?”

He’d given his brother a playful shove. “Of course. Why, what were _you_ thinking?”

Loki had shoved Thor back, a little less playfully, and rolled his eyes. “That you’re an ass,” he’d said.

Thor’d opted not to challenge that one.

In the end he’d written what their mom and dad had assured him was a perfectly decent essay… about the _life-defining joys and challenges of growing up with a twin brother_.

~

Christmas promises to be a bit less of a low-key affair than usual. At Frigga’s encouraging, Mrs. Wallace had invited her son and daughter – and her daughter’s college-aged son, whose father Frigga has heard _moved on_ several years ago – to come visit for the holiday weekend. “Don’t feel like you have to put them up at your place,” Frigga had stressed, over and over. So much so, in fact, that it had somehow turned into the three of them staying at the Odinson farm instead.

Odin’s fine with it. He wants to talk to them both – Mrs. Wallace’s son and daughter – about how he’s buying the house, sometime before the January closing. As much as he doesn’t want anything getting in the way of his Big Plan, if it’s going to be an issue he’d rather know about it.

Not that he thinks it will be.

His own kids, though – even though they know nothing about the Big Plan anyway - are clearly anxious.

~

“We still have to feed Blue and Jonah,” Loki had worried last night at dinner, “and help Mrs. Wallace around the house. We can’t just stop doing that stuff because we have visitors.”

“You won’t have to stop anything,” Odin had promised him. “Okay, maybe it would be smart to stop crawling all over each other,” he’d amended when his son had made a skeptical face and then snickered. “But, like you said, you’ll need to keep up with your duties next door. I don’t think it will be a problem… if her children wanted to be a big part of things, I think they would already be here.”

“And if it _is a problem_ ,” Thor had asked then, sounding uncharacteristically adult. He’d come up behind his brother’s chair and rested one hand protectively on Loki’s shoulder.

“Then I’ll fix it,” Odin had told them both. “I will. Please don’t worry.”

~

“Hi, I’m Jaime. Jaime Wallace Thorne,” the short, nervous-looking woman at the back door says. She extends a hand to shake Frigga’s. “And this is my son Oliver,” she adds, with a smile and a nod towards the similarly short, blond young man struggling with the luggage. “It’s really nice of you to have us over, with mom not well and all.”

Frigga puts on her most welcoming smile. “I’m just glad you can be here.” Jaime still looks vaguely like the blond college girl she remembers from more than twenty years ago. “It’s nice to see you again. And it’s nice to meet you, Oliver,” she says as he finally makes it to the top of the steps. “Let me get my boys to help you with those suitcases. Thor! Loki!”

~

“Your sons are so tall,” Jaime exclaims once the three of them – Loki and Thor, with Oliver in tow - have disappeared upstairs with the luggage. “And so handsome. What are they studying?”

“Procrastination,” Odin says from the living room doorway, laughing. Frigga and Jaime both jump; it’s kind of funny. “They’re in their senior year of high school and trying everything they can think of to avoid college selection. I’m Odin,” he says, in case she doesn’t remember him. The years probably haven’t been as kind to him as he likes to pretend they have. “Welcome back. Your brother should be here tomorrow, weather permitting.”

Jaime laughs. “I _so_ haven’t missed the snow,” she says, and something tightly knotted inside Frigga’s stomach unwinds an inch or two. “I can’t imagine living here now. Ever again, for that matter. I’ve been in California so long that I think I’ve permanently lost my tolerance.”

The knot unwinds a little more. Frigga’s talked to Mrs. Wallace about this – she and Odin both have – but it’s still really good to hear Jaime come right out and say that the area holds no charm for her. “And what about Oliver,” Frigga prompts a little shamelessly. “Is this the first time he’s seen snow?”

“No,” Jaime says, shaking her head. “He’s seen it at Tahoe. And he ‘liked’ it so much that he insisted on going even farther south for college. He’s my boy, for sure.” She looks a little sad. “I’m pretty sure he only agreed to come along because mom’s sick,” she tells them. “Oliver hasn’t seen his grandma in years, not since he was little, and I warned him that he might not have another chance.”

Frigga frowns. Odin wants to go hug her. He stays put, though; after all these years he knows when to wait for an invitation. “Your mother asked that we not tell Loki and Thor just how- how ill she is,” she tells Jaime. “Do you think that’s going to be a problem?”

Jaime laughs softly. “You mean, will Oliver slip and say something? Don’t worry,” she assures them when Frigga nods. “He’s shyer than shy, and your kids are- well, they’re twice his size for starters. He’s bound to be terrified of them. We’ll be lucky if he talks at all.”


	69. Chapter 69

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas means sharing.

“My grandma really likes you guys,” the kid - _Oliver_ , their mother’d said his name was, and he’s not really a kid compared to them… he just seems younger because he’s just short – tells them in the awkward silence that stretches on after they’ve dragged his suitcases upstairs. “It’s nice, what you’ve been doing for her. Mom thinks so too. So, um, thanks.”

Thor smiles. He’s better at this sort of thing than Loki is. “She’s a good person,” he offers, “and she’s been helping my family out since we were kids. We look out for one another here. Right Loki?”

Loki nods. “She took care of my brother years ago, when I- I fell, and spent a while in the hospital. I couldn’t turn down helping her, not in a million years, even if I didn’t like her.” He swallows loudly. _That_ was graceless. “But of course I do. Like her, I mean.” _Shut up, Loki_ , he tells himself. He can feel his face starting to burn. _You sound like an ass. Just stop it_.

“So, you’re in college,” Thor asks. Loki tries to compose himself a little better. “We’re trying to figure out what to do about that right now. Well, not _right_ now,” Thor amends, laughing, “but I know our parents really want us to get on with it.”

Oliver nods. “University of Southern California,” he says. “I’m not sure what exactly I want to do, though,” he adds, scuffing the toe of his sock on the braided rug in a way Loki finds very familiar. “I can’t choose between political science and dentistry.”

Thor laughs. “There’s a combo for you. I don’t want to go at all,” he admits, “but mom’s making me. If the choice was mine I would just continue on with my woodworking.”

“Ohhhh, no wonder you get along so well with grandma, then,” Oliver says. He actually sounds a little excited now, and not nearly so much like he’s just trying to be polite. “I think that’s her favorite topic in the whole universe.”

“Mine too,” Thor agrees with a big, warm smile. “Well, nearly.”

_Oh, crap_. Loki can feel it coming.

“Nearly? Why, what’s your first choice?” Oliver tips his head and looks up at Thor. He’s at least a foot shorter than the two of them, maybe even a little more.

Thor beams. “My boyfriend.”

Loki stiffens. _Don’t you dare don’t you dare don’t you dare_. He holds his breath, waiting for Thor go on and say something really stupid. Or Oliver to freak out because- _gay_.

Nothing happens, though. Thor just waits, smiling expectantly, for Oliver to respond; Oliver, for his part, simply smiles wistfully. He’s quick to assure them both that his grandma has already told him they both seem to prefer men. “You’re lucky,” he tells Thor afterwards. “A lot of people aren’t very open-minded.”

“ _Tell_ me about it,” Thor groans, rolling his eyes.

Loki lets himself breathe out, then in. Deeply. He’s suddenly not even sure he knows what they’re discussing. That, and he doesn’t care.

~

Jaime’s phone chirps. “It’s Paul,” she explains, squinting at the display. “My brother. He’s picking up his rental car.”

Odin jumps up. “I can go get him,” he offers.

“It’s fine,” she tells him. “He likes to drive. But thank you.”

~

Paul is short and soft around the edges, like his sister. He’s friendly in the absent-minded, rushed way of someone who’s doing his best to be polite even though his mind has long since leapt ahead to his next endeavor. He hates this part of the country… he hates the snow, and also hates the cold weather this time of year and the pollen in the spring and the hazy, sweaty weeks of summer. “I don’t know _how_ my mother’s stood it all these years,” he exclaims at one point.

Frigga wants to hug him. She’s so relieved.

~

“Oh god no,” Paul exclaims when Odin asks if he’s ever considered moving back here. He’s planning to come here once more, he explains, ever: when his mother passes on. “I don’t know how you do it,” he says, shaking his head. “This place is just so depressing.”

“So you don’t mind if I buy your mother’s farm,” Odin asks, just to be certain.

Paul laughs, a deep belly laugh that leaves him gasping. “She’d probably just give it to you if you asked her,” he tells Odin. “She loves those boys of yours like God himself.”

“I’ll make it right,” Odin promises, “regardless. I’d just feel funny buying the place out from under you.”

“Oh, god, no,” Paul groans. He’s still laughing. “Please, don’t lose any sleep over it.”

~

Loki and Frigga spend most of Christmas in the kitchen, to the point where Thor feels faintly guilty. He and his father have been lazing about in the living room, entertaining their guests and making sure no one’s drink goes empty. It doesn’t feel enough like work and, when his brother finally takes a break, he tells Loki so.

“Don’t be silly,” his brother says. “You’re doing the hard part. Cooking is easy.”

~

The meal itself is splendid. Everyone is smiling and talking. Odin had brought Mrs. Wallace over earlier (in the car, with Jaime’s help); now she’s doting on Loki like there’s no one else on the planet. Paul and Oliver are talking politics. Frigga, Thor and Jaime are busy saving the world. Odin lets the hum wash over him. Life really doesn’t get much more perfect.

~

Loki and Thor curl up in bed together. It’s very late, and the house is old; the walls are anything but soundproof. “We need- to keep it- down,” Loki pants as they writhe and rub. “Oliver’s right next door and-.” He has to stop and choke back a moan. “And we shouldn’t test-… _fuck_ , Thor.”

They kiss, eager almost to the point of pain despite all those long hours of food and conversation. “I love you,” Thor announces into Loki’s tangled hair.

“I love you, too,” Loki tells him, right away. Thor ducks his head again and kisses his brother, just this side of too roughly. He’s not going to give Loki so much as one second to reconsider that last confession.

It isn’t until he has one hand down his brother’s pajama bottoms that Thor backs off enough to let Loki get a word in.

His brother grins. “Merry Christmas.”


	70. Chapter 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year. Um, oops?

It's New Year's Eve. Tomorrow marks the start of a whole new chance. Thor's always found the idea uplifting. While he isn’t sure he’d admit it, Loki generally finds it kind of terrifying. He's not overly fond of endings… or beginnings.

As soon as their parents head out for the holiday party, the two of them stash a couple of bottles of champagne at the door to the porch - between the storm door and the house door itself - to chill and then hurry next door through knee-deep snow to have a quick, light dinner with Mrs. Wallace. She's happy to see them, and cheerful.

She’s also tired; they don't stay long.

Thor pops the cork on one of the big, heavy bottles as soon as they finish the miserable slog back home, before they even take the time to change out of their snowy, soaking wet pants and into something warmer. Just like everyone always says the bubbles go right to their heads and leave them giggly and graceless. Rather than putting on something dry they strip right down to their birthday suits and head straight for the shower, plastic cups in one hand (safety first; no broken glass in the bathroom!) and bottle in the other. They make a mildly-drunken pinky-sworn pact not to get too _intimate_ (it’s a funny word, _intimate_ ; Loki snorts and gets water up his nose, a lot, to the point that he ends up coughing) under the spray. Wherever this night is heading, they agree, they want to give the (bigger, newer) guest room bed a try this time.

"It's only going to be now once, you know." Thor points out, extremely seriously. His face is very close to Loki’s. His hand is even closer; he’s practically poking Loki’s eye out.

Loki hides a little hiccup in the soapy crook of his own elbow. He grabs his brother's waggling finger in his other hand and nips it. "But,” he says, “it will be yesterday forever."

~

They toddle back out to the porch door together, arm in arm, their hips not nearly as wrapped in towels as they mean them to be. Loki’s bare feet leave wet smears on the floor and perfect footprints in the snow. Thor uncorks the second bottle in the doorway, only _just_ missing taking out (Loki’s head, and) the porch light in the process. "Oh, christ," he exclaims, jumping back as the champagne foams up and bubbles all down his wrist and forearm.

Loki stoops to slurp the mess from his brother's skin. "Hey," he protests, "Be careful. You're wasting it! Oh, and wrong holiday."

It's so incredibly, ceaselessly hilarious that they're still bent over double laughing when they hit the guest room mattress. "We should get a towel," Thor warns.

Towels are impossibly far away. Loki wobbles down the hall to their room and snags a few t-shirts instead. He makes it back in one piece. In fact, he even gets most of the shirts on the bed in one try.

~

They start the new year with a solid headful of fresh knowledge:

Too much champagne combined with too little dinner makes for a wild ride… far wilder, in fact, than either of them had anticipated.

It also makes for the squinty-eyed, cotton-mouthed day of headaches they undoubtedly had coming.

Being very relaxed, more commonly known as _being really fucking shitfaced_ , makes certain activities (which had – whether they’d been willing to admit it or not - really hurt and frustrated the two of them the first time around) much, much more tolerable. Pleasant, even. Very, very pleasant.

So does using lots and lots of lube. So what if it's the high-end all-natural hand cream their mother puts out for guests?

_Details_.

_A trail tells a story_ , just like the trackers and hunters always say.

When the story it tells is of how you played barefoot and naked on the porch in the snow, made very, _very_ merry, and then frolicked in the clean laundry... all before passing out in a sticky, telltale heap with the bedroom door wide open... you can expect a fairly impressive lecture.

A lecture delivered with no consideration whatsoever for the delicate present state of your health, to be specific.

~

"Was it worth it," Thor asks Loki in a raspy whisper outside the barn. He’s had to come outside for some cold, fresh air; the sharp tang of manure is making him gag.

So is living, actually. He hangs over the fence, retching for all he’s worth. Which isn’t much just now.

Loki is too dry to even be nauseated. He gamely tries to smile. It hurts too much; he stops bothering. Instead, he limps over to rub his brother's back, gently, until Thor spits into the snow and then straightens back up. "Oh, yeah," Loki breathes. "But we might want to go a _little_ less crazy next time. With the _booze_ ," he clarifies as Thor's already sickly-pale face falls. "I'm pretty sure the sex was amazing."

"Amazingly _messy_ ," Thor corrects. He's not wrong, either; Loki's privately shocked they hadn't managed to give Odin another _episode_ over it. "We really need to go for towels next time. Lots of towels. Next time."

"Next time." Loki hums. "Believe it or not, when I'm feeling a little better I think I'm actually going to like the sound of that.”

Thor manages the ghost of a rueful smile. “Oh, _good_ ,” he says, sounding very relieved. “Me too, baby.”

~

They spend the rest of the morning back at their own farm, cleaning.

It turns out the wound-together smells of sex and alcohol and brightly flowery hand cream are stomach-turning too.

~

“How can you be _okay with this_ ,” Frigga complains. They’re good kids, loving and caring and smart, but sometimes their judgment is so bad it scares her. “They got really drunk. They didn’t practice safe sex. They didn’t even bother pulling the door closed.” She huffs. “Basically, they broke every rule you gave them. Every rule _we_ gave them.”

Odin smiles. “Let it go,” he tells her. “I suspect they’ve learned at least part of their lesson.” He shrugs. “And anything they haven’t caught on to, we probably can’t even begin to teach them.”


	71. Chapter 71

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spring is a time of turmoil.

There isn’t much Frigga _can_ do. She spends the better part of a week pondering her options – she can’t shake the feeling that the whole New Year’s business is the kind of learning experience that should have _consequences_ \- but her hands are pretty thoroughly tied. She can’t ground her sons, because they have responsibilities. Mrs. Wallace depends on the two them to get by. The chores over at the farm take twice as long as they do in nicer weather, between the difficult walking and the shoveling and the plain old extra work of taking care of animals in the freezing cold, so sending either of the boys to do the work alone probably isn’t smart either.

Plus, it’s not like Loki and Thor really let anyone down. They saw to Mrs. Wallace at dinner and dragged themselves back to take care of the animals at breakfast. And if all hell had broken out in between, which it clearly had… some of what she saw when she and Odin got home, she’s pretty sure she’ll never unsee… the two of them had really only hurt themselves anyway.

“Should I just give up and let it go,” she asks her husband a little more than a week later, while the boys are over feeding the animals (and Mrs. Wallace, most likely) and she and Odin have the place to themselves. “I feel like I’m failing at parenting.”

He smiles and takes hold of her hand to pull her in for a hug. “You’re a wonderful mother. You are. But they’re nearly grown men now,” he reminds her. “They’re pretty much going to do things the way they want to, whether we like it or not.”

Now that he’s mentioned it, she knows her sons more or less always have. “You don’t understand,” she protests anyway. “When I got to the doorway they were-.”

“Ah-ah,” he warns. “Don’t tell me. I’m trying to live out the rest of my days in happy ignorance.”

“That is _so_ not fair,” she accuses when he starts laughing.

“Like you’re forever reminding your youngest son,” he teases, “ _life is not fair_. Plus, you were the one who was in such a hurry to find out why the light was on. _I_ was all ready to head to bed.”

“Right,” she says, “and risk burning the house down. What if they’d lit a candle?”

Odin shakes his head. He’s still laughing. “They don’t seem to be candle people.”

“They don’t seem to be the drunk-in-the-snow champagne and hand cream sort either,” she counters.

“Hey,” he says loudly. “Ignorance, remember?”

“Life’s not fair,” she tells him.

~

They’re a little ashamed of themselves, really. Both of them know they were out of control the other evening, and – while they don’t remember what happened late in the night quite as clearly as they ought to – there’s no question they were so far over the line that they’d lost sight of it entirely.

Things at home are awkward and strained; Odin seems to be avoiding them and Frigga must be lining up punishment somehow.

Still, now that they’ve had a taste of how much better sex can be when they aren’t wound as tight as bowstrings, they want more.

Unfortunately there doesn’t seem to be any easy way to _get_ some.

~

Meanwhile the nagging is getting old. To make it stop, Loki settles on one of the smaller private colleges just south of the city. He tells his parents that it’s because the school has a wonderful liberal arts focus, and his brother that it’s because the academics there sound surprisingly easy.

In reality, it doesn’t sound easy at all. He’s certain the courseload will make him wish he were dead.

What he doesn’t tell anyone is that it’s the only place in town, besides the community college (and their parents would never settle for that; he knows better than to even bother trying), that doesn’t have a freshmen campus residency requirement.

Meaning he can live at home, or wherever, with his brother… instead of in some scruzzy dorm somewhere, where he’s forced to take up residence with an asshat of a roommate and sneak _alone time_ with Thor in the showers at 3:00 in the morning.

“Look,” he tells his brother, pointing over Thor’s shoulder at the computer screen full of smiling student faces. “They have a Bachelor of Fine Arts program. You should apply. It’ll be perfect.” He lays a hand gently over his brother’s and moves the mouse. “See? Woodworking.”

Thor snorts. “What, you think mom and dad are going to let me get a degree in _bowls_? Seriously?”

Loki twists in to kiss him on the temple. “I think they’ll just be happy you’re _going_.”

~

They both apply. They both get in.

Loki’s right – their parents are ecstatic. No one looks a gift horse in the mouth, or asks the difficult questions.

~

In April, just as the weather finally starts to change from snow to rain and brings with it hope there may actually be an end to the ravages of winter, Mrs. Wallace takes three turns for the worse and ends up in the hospital. “Stay at the house,” she tells Loki when he and his family stop by to visit her. “I don’t like the idea of the animals there all alone.”

“Seriously?” He can’t quite believe she trusts him. Not this thoroughly. “Don’t you want my parents to-?”

“I want _you_ to do it,” she says, cutting him off. Her voice is faint and raspy, and he has to lean in close to her wrinkled, papery cheek to really catch all of what she’s saying. “You know the place. You love my critters. If you’re scared to be alone,” she goes on, “just bring your brother.”

Loki snorts. He’s not afraid. As if. “My mother will never let us-.”

“Hush,” Mrs. Wallace says. “I’ll ask her. She’ll do anything for me.” She pats his elbow as he straightens up.

He’s just had a terrible thought.

“You’re dying, aren’t you,” he blurts out, gracelessly. “I’m sorry. I mean- I- but-… crap.” He can feel the tears coming, and he’s completely powerless to stop them.

“Oh, sweetie,” she whispers. She reaches up to touch his face. “We’re all dying., every one of us. That’s just all part of being human.”

~

Mrs. Wallace is right, at least about that first bit. She only has to ask Frigga once, and suddenly Loki and Thor are standing in her kitchen – alone – with a knapsack and a bag of food in their hands and butterflies in their stomachs.

“This is so weird,” Loki confesses to his brother, quietly. Even his softest whisper sounds oddly loud. He looks around the kitchen – at the smudged refrigerator, the big old gas stove, the carved sign over the doorway that reads _Welcome to Bright Star Farm_ \- and shivers.

Thor steps up behind him and hugs him close. “Good weird or bad weird?”

Loki does his best to relax back into his brother’s embrace. “You know,” he says, trying to sound cheerful, “I haven’t quite decided.”


	72. Chapter 72

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As spring draws to a close, there's lots to wrap up.

"Loki, _no_. You can't get hammered every time," Thor protests. "It can't be healthy. Because mom'll _kill_ us," he goes on to explain, laughing, when Loki cocks an eyebrow. Still, this may just be the least sexy bedtime conversation they've ever had. Ever.

"I need to be relaxed," Loki reiterates. They've been going around and around on this particular subject for days now, ever since he’d filched a half-empty bottle of scotch out of Odin’s stock and his brother had promptly pronounced it _paint remover_. They’re both frustrated, so much so that one of them brings the subject up pretty much any time their parents - he's given up calling them _Thor's_ parents, even inside his own head, unless he's really upset with them - are out of earshot. "Really, really relaxed. And anticipating you splitting me open with that- that _thing_ of yours just doesn't relax me." _Suave, Loki. Very suave_. He sucks in a breath as his brother frowns. "So unless you have a better idea..."

As it turns out, Thor does: an endlessly patient head-to-toe-and-back-again massage. With silky, gently-scented oil. It’s the same kind of slow, careful rubdown he and his brother take turns giving Blue, only a hundred times better.

~

The first time, pleasant as it is, Loki still can't quite unwind.

~

The next couple of attempts they make a little too late at night. Thor does such a thorough job that Loki's out cold before they get to the point of it all... although his brother nicely insists it's good enough just to see him so peaceful and trusting.

~

A few days later, Odin and Frigga are finally out for the evening. Thor starts in with the massage right after the two of them come back from Mrs. Wallace’s, and this time they do make things work. It does still hurt, quite a bit, but Loki finds he can bear it reasonably well sober.

Until the end, that is, when Thor gets a little carried away and Loki can't keep from screaming.

Okay, apologizing about what’s just happened over and over is _really_ the least sexy bedtime conversation they’ve had. Yes, ever.

~

They take the better part of a week off to let things settle. While it may be smart, it’s not easy. When they can’t hold out any longer, they tumble into bed together and Loki is surprised to discover that his brother has clearly spent their downtime _reading the manual_. It's a whole new game this time, one he isn’t sure he’s even properly imagined.

Thor manages some finger tricks that have Loki panting. And probably blushing, although he's blaming his flaming hot face on the exertion if anyone asks.

No one does. Thor is simply too busy to notice, from the looks (okay, the _feel_ ) of it. Before long, Loki can’t being to focus well enough to worry about it either.

Everything goes much, much better this time; amazingly so. It starts well, it ends well. For both of them. The towel is the only real casualty.

Loki can almost walk normally afterwards.

They're very, very pleased with themselves, actually.

~

Mrs. Wallace, to everyone’s considerable relief, stays out of the hospital all the way through springtime and on into really nice weather. Her aide is a permanent fixture now, though, so Loki and Thor trade cooking and feeding for storytelling and handholding. Loki wonders privately which is worse, losing your mind while your body stays strong (à la grandpa Bor) or staying knife-sharp mentally (like Mrs. Wallace has done) while your physical health gradually erodes out from under you.

Several times he gets her alone and almost asks her opinion, but Thor always pops back in to join them just a little too quickly.

She's dying, day-by-day, but it's their little secret: Loki's, hers. Thor is a big sap and Loki can't bring himself to break his brother's heart… even when his own is (secretly) breaking.

~

Sometimes it's nice being a big(gish) fish in a small pond. Rather than exhausting her by dragging her to somebody’s office, Odin arranges for both their attorneys to come out to Mrs. Wallace's farm. It’s a cash transaction and she owns her place free and clear; there’s no bank involved and, consequently, no _bank’s attorney_. She grudgingly sells him the property at market value, at his insistence. Everything is signed and sealed and exactingly legal.

Frigga brings over a big plate of fresh, warm cookies. Everyone has one.

Or three.

One of the attorneys just _might_ have made quick work of a fourth one. “These,” he says, licking his lips to catch every tiny crumb, “are fantastic.”

~

"Don't you _dare_ tell those boys of yours," Mrs. Wallace admonishes Odin later that afternoon, as her aide gently helps her into bed. Sitting up for an hour, signing her name countless times, has clearly taken a lot out of her. "I've written up a letter for them, in with my Will. They won't blame you after they've read it," she promises.

Loki, especially, never lets a little airtight logic get in the way of a perfectly good blaming, but Odin bites his tongue. This may be the only thing he can really give his lifelong neighbor at this point, and he doesn't have it in him to ruin even the littlest of things for her.

If the kids are mad, well, he'll deal with it. They have years to come around. Anyway, he thinks they won’t be.

~

Frigga has an awful, wrenching dream so real it feels like a vision. She can’t shake it off and has to creep out of the house at sunrise to hurry over to the farm next door. Mrs. Wallace's aide is in the kitchen making coffee. "She's just fine, Mrs. Odinson," the aide promises her. "Still sleeping is all."

That turns out to be true, thankfully.

"I was hungry," Frigga tells her sons when they pile into the kitchen flushed and sweating. "I didn't want to wake you."

Thor just nods. When the news is good, he's blissfully easy. Loki gives her a knowing look, though, and her heart hurts for him.

In fact, she hurts for all of them.


	73. Chapter 73

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Change is stressful, and so are misunderstandings.

The end is just about here. Graduation looms. They’re done with all that matters of school ( _which_ , Loki thinks, _might just be_ nothing _anyway_ ); everyone is busy signing yearbooks – which feels so dated it’s almost _retro_ , and not in a good way - and planning parties and exchanging the sorts of teary farewells that leave Loki feeling grumpy and alienated. To a one, the things he’s enjoyed about his high school years have all taken place _when school wasn’t happening_. All this misplaced _sentiment_ disgusts him.

Thor is suddenly, overwhelmingly popular again as his former teammates look back over their high school careers and realize they’d never have gotten where they are today without him. It’s like things were years ago (also not in a good way); players and their cheerleader girlfriends dog Thor in the hallways and show up at the house after school uninvited.

Which pisses Loki off, both the fact that they do it and the ease with which his brother falls back into basking in the heat of their attention like a cat in sunshine. In the space of a few days Thor has next to no time for him; no time for woodworking, no time to really spend with Blue and Jonah, no time for the cats. Loki has to admit that his brother still does make a point of visiting with Mrs. Wallace, but only in the morning. Loki now spends his evenings with her alone, telling stories and holding her cold hands as she drifts off to sleep.

By the time he gets home, Thor’s in bed already… or, even worse, still out with friends. It’s ridiculous. Loki hates it.

He’s starting to feel like he knows Mrs. Wallace’s aide better than he knows his own brother.

He hates _that_ , too.

~

“I’m never going to see these guys again,” Thor explains when Loki calls him out on his recent spate of inattentive behavior. “I won’t even see them over the summer.” Most of them have jobs and are moving on, and the ones who are sticking with football will be leaving for college “training camp” before the summer has really gotten started. “We have the whole rest of our lives to be together,” he says. “Can’t you give me a little time to spend with them?”

Loki hisses and walks away.

Thor feels vaguely guilty. He can’t tell if he _should_ , or if his brother is just trying to manipulate him. When he runs it past Sif, she shrugs. “You guys spend a lot of time together,” she muses. “Maybe you just need a little breather?”

Thinking about that just leaves him feeling guiltier.

~

The week of finals, not long before graduation, Tony’s father is out of town. That means a humongous party, the likes of which no one has seen in ages.

Thor goes.

Loki had promised to join his brother at Tony’s house later, saying that he could only stand so much chaos and noise before it became a little bit overwhelming. Thor _had_ smiled at that, at the thought of Loki stopping by later, but it hadn’t been enough somehow.

He doesn’t head to Tony’s, though. He goes out to the pond instead and spends his Saturday sitting alone on the dock, cursing his life and wishing his brother still loved him.

“He’s moved on,” he tells Mrs. Wallace that evening, as he and the aide take turns feeding her little forkfuls of stew. “I always knew this would happen.”

“You should talk with him, honey,” she tells him. “Maybe that’s not what it is at all.”

~

Perhaps he should, but Loki’s already heard more about departing friends and sad farewells than he needs to last him a lifetime. Instead, he retreats farther and farther into his own solitude.

It doesn’t have the desired effect. In fact, he’s reasonably certain his brother hasn’t even noticed.

 _Fine_ , Loki thinks. _Be that way_.

~

“What’s going on with Loki,” Thor asks Frigga over lunch on the next day. Loki is nowhere to be found… and this Thor knows for certain, because he’s just spent an hour searching. “I feel like he’s avoiding me. I don’t remember having a fight, really, but- I don’t get it. He even blew me off about Tony’s party.”

“He’s worried about Mrs. Wallace,” Frigga tells him.

“So am I,” Thor exclaims. Frustration bubbles up. He’s more tired than he’d realized of whatever game his brother’s playing. “But you don’t see me dumping _him_ over it.”

Frigga sighs. “Have you tried sitting down and asking him what’s wrong,” she asks, her voice a little strained-sounding, “and then – when he answers - really listening?”

“He won’t talk to me,” Thor assures her. Loki doesn’t even come to bed anymore, and hasn’t for weeks now. “Why don’t _you_ ask him?”

~

It’s not the best approach, she knows. Still, Frigga does it. She sits Loki down on the Thursday evening before graduation, with a tall glass of iced coffee and some homemade shortbread cookies. “I feel like you and your brother aren’t getting along just now,” she tells him. “Should I be worried?”

Loki curls in on himself a little. She hasn’t seen him do that in ages.

In fact, it’s unusual enough nowadays that she finds she actually _is_ worried.

“He has time for everyone and everything but me.” Loki tells her. “He says it’s nothing,” he scoffs, “but I’m not _stupid_ , you know. I know _moving on_ when I see it.”

 _Oh, Loki_. “I’m not sure I agree with your interpretation,” she says, carefully. “I mean,” she adds when he opens his mouth to disagree, “you’re right that he’s busy with some of his friends more often, these days at least.” That much is obvious, and there’s no point in arguing with him about it. “But I don’t think it’s because he’s moved on, or because he’s done with you.”

She doesn’t think that at all. In fact, she’s sure of it. Thor is just hiding from change, really.

“Fine,” Loki huffs. “If you know so much about it, _you_ tell me what the problem is.”

“Come here,” she tells him, patting the couch next to her in hopes of getting him to scoot over. He does. She can feel the seat shift and sag under his weight. Her boys are so big these days, and so sad. “You’re both going through a lot of difficult things right now,” she tells him. “So many things you know and love are ending. Change and loss are frightening,” she admits. “And you tend to pull away when you’re frightened, don’t you?”

Loki frowns. “He’s the one who started this,” he grumbles. She’s not surprised he’s willfully missing her point; this is tough stuff, graduation and adulthood and loss and death, and maybe they need help dealing with it. “Why is it always about _me_ pulling away? It’s not fair and I hate it and I’m fucking sick of it. Sorry,” he admits, wincing. “I didn’t mean to swear. I didn’t. I really am sorry.”

She slings an arm around him and pulls him close. “I love you,” she assures him. “And Thor loves you. The same way, but also differently. All these ups and downs are normal, you know?” She smoothes his hair back with one hand. “These things happen to everyone.”

He snuggles closer, the way he used to years ago. “Even you and dad,” Loki asks her shoulder. “Seriously?”

She gives him a squeeze. “Even me and your father,” she agrees. “We’ve fought more times than I can count. But we have a rule that we try our best to stick to: Never go to bed angry.”

“I’m not even sure we’re doing that,” Loki says. “These days I can’t even tell when _I’m_ angry.”

“Honestly,” she tells him, “the two of you need to talk about this. I can set something up with Dr. Banner if that feels better.”

Loki makes a face, as though the idea of doing anything at all make him feel infinitely farther from _better_. “Ugh,” he complains. “Why can’t anything be easy?” He sits up with a pained grunt. “I’ll try,” he tells her. “But not today, okay?”

She touches his cheek. “Soon,” she asks.

He sighs. “Oh, probably.”


	74. Chapter 74

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The best-laid plans and all that...

_Graduation morning_ , Loki thinks, stretching as far as the couch will allow him. _Wonderful._

Not.

He looks around the living room, blinking and rubbing his face. He isn’t quite sure why he's taken to sleeping out here; he just _has_ , and _is_ , and no one has said a thing about it. It’s reached the point where going in “their” bedroom – even just to grab his clothes - is awkward.

Loki rolls over and sits up, stiff and graceless. Inside the house air is already stuffy and thick. Outside, it’s hazy. Today is going to be a hot one, for certain. Even this early in the morning the floorboards are almost as warm as the soles of his bare feet. The sun is already up, too, but not by much. From what Loki can see out the window there's still a little pink at the horizon. _Yay_. Nothing starts a day off right like insomnia.

He slides a hand between the cushions and gropes around for his phone.

_5:30 AM_. Ugh.

It's early, _farm_ early, but he's wide-awake. He know without bothering to try that there’s no point in going back to sleep. It's not like he has any evening plans anyway; he just has to get through the little picnic his parents have pulled together and then he can go to bed early. Go to _couch_ , anyway. It's not as though anyone (else) uses the formal living room... his family does its regular living in the parlor.

Loki hoists himself up off the couch and pads silently out to the kitchen. No dishes in the sink, Thor's boots still by the back door. _Let him sleep_ , he mentally tells- nobody, really. He grabs a coverall from the hook by the door and pulls it on over his rumpled, sweaty boxers.

The dusty, stained thing stinks, and that's putting it nicely. Coveralls are one place his mom draws the line when it comes to laundry… _If you want it clean_ , she says, _you know exactly how to do it._

Which he does, yes. Still, he hasn’t. Fortunately it's not like Blue or Jonah will mind.

He slips his bare, sticky feet into his equally sticky boots and heads out into the bright steam of morning, whistling quietly to himself and hoping for a miracle.

~

Doing something so _ordinary_ on such a stressful day feels- peaceful. Calming. Loki takes his time mucking, raking and shoveling up the previous day's manure. When that’s done, he pushes the stuff out to the pile one scant wheelbarrow load at a time. He's not in a hurry, and there's no one here to impress but the least friendly of the barn cats; he doesn't bother working with anything close to the most he can carry.

He takes his time currying Blue, too. Loki divides the friendly, patient horse into imaginary quarters and doesn't stop brushing one to move on to the next until Blue's coat is sleek and shiny. "You need to look nice," he tells the horse softly, "if you're coming to our party. Not _you_ ," he teases Jonah as the goat butts his hip lightly ( _lightly_ as goats go, meaning it hurts but was probably just intended as a love tap). "You're a hopeless mess. I can't do a thing for you."

"Um, hi," Thor says from very close behind him. Loki lets out a little startled shriek, quickly followed by a full-on howl as Blue flinches away and then steps on his foot, hard.

The shock robs him of anything resembling common sense. "Ow ow get off me you big lug," he screeches, drumming his fists impotently against Blue's shoulder. "Move! I mean it! You're _hurting me!!_ "

Thor pushes himself in between Loki's hands and Blue. "Shh," he tells- both of them, probably. He strokes slowly down the horse's leg, the same way they always do when they're cleaning hooves, and taps Blue's fetlock gently. "Up we go, cutie-pie. There’s a good horse,” he singsongs. “Come to daddy."

Even with Thor’s help it takes what feels like all morning before Blue finally does lean away.

The moment the weight comes off Loki drops to his knees and rolls off to the side in the dirt and prickly straw. "Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck," he pants, rocking back and forth with tears streaming down his face. "Holy shit, Blue, you're _heavy_. Oh jesus."

Thor crouches down beside him. "Are you okay," he asks. He looks worried and sounds embarrassed, both advertising a degree of concern he’s been sorely lacking lately, but Loki's hurting too much at the moment to care. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spook you. Either of you." Thor's big hand closes around Loki's ankle with the same easy surety he'd shown Blue a minute ago. "Let me take a look at it."

Once Thor has his boot off Loki half expects to find his foot as broad and limply floppy as one of Frigga's amazing pancakes. Instead it actually looks- well, pretty much normal, except for the reddened semicircle that stretches from his second toe all the way across to a couple of inches above his pinkie toe. Still, it hurts like crazy. He’s not sure if he can even- "oh ow fuck don't _touch_ it," he wails as his brother gently works the bones in his forefoot.

"Shh," Thor soothes again. "I need to make sure nothing's broken. You know that, Loki."

What he _knows_ is that his brother's _face_ is going to be the next thing broken, and he’s more than ready to say so, but then his coverall leg is sliding up and Thor's warm, strong fingers are kneading the knots out of his calf and all Loki manages to do is groan. He uncurls and lowers himself gingerly onto the dirt and then does his best to lie quietly, eyes closed, all the while silently willing his foot to stop throbbing.

"I'm sorry," Thor says again several minutes later, when Loki has finally managed to relax a little.

"Me too," Loki exclaims, with a sharp laugh. "Why are you even here? Didn't you notice that my boots were missing?"

His brother's hair tickles all down his shin as Thor plants a very soft kiss on Loki's instep. It somehow manages to be both gross and hot, simultaneously. "No, I did," his brother says quietly. "I came out to help. I- I wanted to talk to you."

Maybe he isn't going to die from this after all. "Well," Loki says, feeling just enough better - in so many ways, more than he can count - to tease a little, "you sure picked one hell of an icebreaker."

Thor laughs softly. "I'm not sure I'd take this particular approach again," he admits. He kisses Loki's foot once more, lingering quite a bit longer this time. "But even you can't deny that it got your attention."

“I hate you,” Loki says, but he’s laughing.


	75. Chapter 75

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making up isn't so hard.
> 
>  _5/2015 NOTE: For those of you who are reading this but don't follow me on Tumblr - I'm going to be away for a few days, which means I will be writing the next chapter of_ Arranged _rather than working on this story. I should be able to get back to_ Bright Star _no later than a week from tomorrow._

Thor scoops Loki up and sets him gently back on his feet. _Foot_ , anyway. “We should get that boot of yours back on before the swelling really gets going,” his brother tells him, “because I’m not sure I’m up for carrying you all the way back to our house. Not in this heat, anyway.”

His brother is definitely right. Even now it takes a fair bit of pushing and pulling. And yes, no small amount of swearing. Once the boot is finally back where it belongs, though, Loki finds that the injured foot will bear most of his weight. He takes a few tentative steps, clinging to the front of Blue’s stall, wincing and grimacing. “There,” he tells Thor. “It looks like your back is safe this time.” Walking home is going to suck, and marching across the stage to accept his diploma later on is probably going to be even worse. He and Mrs. Wallace can sit together at the picnic, though, and let everyone wait on them like they’re kings and queens; _that_ just might make it all worth it.

Loki takes another awkward step and then straightens up. He lets go of the stall and hobbles off towards the end of the barn to grab Blue a couple of flakes of hay. “What did you want to talk about,” he calls back to Thor. He’s not going to be the one to start the discussion, just in case he’s guessed wrong and the whole dramatic lead-in is really just about whether to use paper or foam plates at this afternoon’s graduation picnic.

Thor trails after him. “Here,” his brother says, ducking around him and reaching for the hay. “Let me. And sit down. Put that foot up.”

Normally Loki doesn’t take kindly to being ordered about, but his foot really does hurt and his brother’s advice is probably worth taking. He tosses a blanket over a pile of straw bales and sits down. “Stop trying to change the subject,” he says, curling up and swinging his legs up onto the straw.

“I wasn’t,” Thor insists, but he actually _blushes_ \- a real, old-fashioned blush, the kind where Loki can watch the flush creeping up his neck and face until he’s pink and glowing everywhere – and Loki doesn’t believe him for a second. And, of course, says so. “Fine,” Thor huffs. “I feel- I don’t- _crap_ , Loki, I had a whole speech rehearsed and then you had your run-in with Blue and I lost it. Look, I _love_ you. I’m sorry we haven’t been getting along recently. I talked to mom,” he adds and Loki snorts.

“Go ahead. Mock me all you want,” Thor says. “I didn’t know what to do. She’s always smarter than I am when it comes to you.”

At that Loki laughs outright. “Yeah, she’s smarter than _me_ when it comes to me, too,” he commiserates. “So, what did she tell you?”

“That you’re worried about- about losing Mrs. Wallace, and that you love me, and that I shouldn’t take it personally when you pull away because you’re going through a rough time.” Thor takes a deep breath. “Well, not all that exactly, but that’s pretty much what it came down to once I thought about it.”

Loki lets his head drop back against the blanket. It smells strongly of horse. Not that he’s exactly sweet and fresh like roses either. He shuts his eyes. This is what he wants. He needs to take the high road. “I’m sorry too,” he says, trying not to think too much about how his home – his temple – has been invaded by what feels like an endless parade of football players recently. “I know you want to see your friends.” He can’t quite bring himself to say _and that’s fine with me_ , because it isn’t, so he stops short and hopes what he’s already said will be- adequate.

“The team? Really, it’s more that _they_ want to see _me_ ,” Thor says. Loki opens his eyes; _that’s_ genuinely surprising. “They’re not really my friends,” Thor goes on, “not after the way they treated you. Treated _us_. But I don’t know how to act around them, and I didn’t want to cause a scene at this point. I figured it was just better to- to get it over with?” He shrugs. “My real friends, like Sif and Volstagg… they aren’t going anywhere.”

That’s not quite true – Sif, for example, is going to college a few hours away; Volstagg is still in town but so busy between work and school that Loki can’t quite remember the last time they saw him – but he gets where his brother is coming from. He nods. “I’m sorry I acted like a jerk,” he says. “And mom’s right. I’m worried about losing Mrs. Wallace. And about school, and- and life, I guess. Being a grownup. Everything’s changing.”

Thor dumps a scoop and a half of oats into Blue’s bin. “Me too. To all of that. Come on,” he says, brushing the dirt off his hands onto his (probably dirtier) trousers and offering a palm to Loki. “We’re all done here. Let’s get home and clean up before mom yells at us.”

Loki nods. When he swings his legs down, his foot throbs with renewed vigor. “Be patient with me,” he says, meaning several different things simultaneously. Words are handy that way.

His brother wraps him in a careful hug and then kisses him again, on the lips this time. Loki tries not to think too hard about where his brother’s mouth has just been. “I love you,” Thor says against his lips. “Here, let me help you.”

~

“I think our boys might have enacted a peace treaty,” Frigga says as she adds another crisp, steaming beauty to the growing stack of waffles. Even though he’s not allowed to help – only Loki gets to assist with certain types of cooking, using the waffle iron among them – Odin is enjoying sitting in the (hot, admittedly) kitchen and watching the family breakfast come together. He’s impressed, too: considering the crazy humidity, this batch of batter is surprisingly well behaved. Each and every waffle has come off the iron fluffy and golden. Perfect. He can hardly wait to fill those nooks and crannies with butter and maple syrup and then eat his way into breakfast heaven.

“What makes you think so,” Odin asks his wife a little absent-mindedly. He’s interested; he really is. The whole household is miserable when the twins are battling. It’s just that he’s starved. Between the sweet toast-and-oil smell of the waffle iron and the thick slab of ham sizzling in the frying pan, his mouth is watering.

His wife laughs. She wipes her face on her sleeve. “Well, for starters, they’re showering right this very moment.” She grins over her shoulder at him. “Together.”


	76. Chapter 76

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> High school is a closed chapter.

“Loki,” Frigga starts, in a tone of voice both boys know all too well. It isn’t one of their favorites. “What did you do to yourself?”

“Nothing,” Loki starts, and Thor holds his breath… depending on how this plays out he’s about to be in a crapload of trouble. “Blue stepped on my foot this morning, when I was over in Mrs. Wallace’s barn.”

Frigga studies Thor for a moment, and then Loki. “And since when do you take the early morning shift,” she asks.

Loki shrugs. He’s still scrunching the water out of his black mop; from what Thor can tell, he’s given up what can really only be the losing battle against today’s sweltering weather and is planning to wear his hair curly. Which is fine with Thor, who loves it that way. “I had trouble sleeping last night,” Loki tells their mother. “I guess I was stressing about graduation. Anyway, I woke up before my brother for once and decided to do him a favor.” He snorts. “No good deed goes unpunished and all that, right? It’s no big deal, though. It’ll walk off.”

Thor forgets himself for a moment and lets his stale lungful of air out in a loud whoosh. “Stressing about graduation too, mom,” he says brightly as she shoots him a look.

Loki rolls his eyes at Thor and then hobbles over to load his plate up with waffles. “Where’s dad?”

“I had to send him to his office for a few minutes,” Frigga tells them. “He was drooling on our breakfast. Okay, you two,” she says briskly, wiping her hands on her apron and then planting them squarely on her hips. “I’m sure you think you’ve very clever, and very subtle. But, yes, old as I am I still did find it in me to notice you went from barely speaking to all lovey-dovey in the space of an hour or two this morning. And I’m pleased,” she assures them. “Don’t get me wrong. But you do need to talk, both of you. And while it may seem easier, kissing isn’t talking.”

They both look at the floor. Well, Thor looks at the floor; out of the corner of his eye he can see Loki staring intently at that plate of waffles. He clears his throat. “We did talk some on the way back from Mrs. Wallace’s,” he says. “I’ve been worrying over- everything ending, I guess? I didn’t think about how I was acting or about what it might look like to Loki.”

“And I, of course, overreacted,” Loki grumbles.

Thor slings an arm around his brother’s shoulders. Loki’s waffles tilt dangerously. “No,” Thor assures, “you were perfectly justified. I don’t blame you at all.” He very nearly doesn’t.

The floor squeaks a little as Odin comes in from the front of the house. “Did anyone see a flying pig,” he deadpans. “I could have sworn I just saw one.”

“All right, already,” Thor huffs. “I was wrong. I admit it. Graduation. We’re going to be grownups as of this afternoon, right?”

Loki presses hard against his side. His brother’s still-damp hair sticks to his arm and it tickles. “We were both wrong,” Loki agrees. “And, yeah, time to start acting our age. Is that a problem?”

Frigga looks at Odin and waggles her eyebrows. “Of course not,” Odin says. “But if you two old men don’t mind stepping out of the way, I’d like to grab myself some waffles.”

~

Loki walks – okay, limps, but he tries to hide it – across the stage first, since the whole ceremony is arranged alphabetically. He holds his back stiffly straight and his head high; whatever anyone says or does, he reminds himself firmly, he isn’t going to give the asshole the pleasure of seeing him react to it.

No one says a thing, though. People clap politely. No one yells _faggot_ or throws anything. He doesn’t trip over the taped-down extension cords, or the microphone stand. Before he knows it, really, he’s made it all the way across the stage and is shaking the principal’s hand. He’s here, standing strong and accepting the folio that holds his diploma.

It’s over. It’s _all_ over. He’s free; it’s done.

“Thor Odinson,” he hears the announcer call. There’s a lot more clapping for Thor, and some loud cheering, but Loki ignores it and keeps on walking until he’s all the way back to where he started.

He can barely hear Sif over the din – “hey, good for you, we made it!” – as he plops gratefully back down in his seat.

“Yeah,” he tells her over his shoulder, “we did.”

It’s over.

He pretends he’s barely able to tolerate the nonsense as Thor high-fives him. In truth, the numbness inside is finally giving way and he’s- well, he’s fucking ecstatic.

~

“Oh, no no, you guest-of-honor types,” Frigga tells her boys as they mill around in the kitchen. “I paid people to help out so you two could bask in your newfound – if short-lived - glory. Out you go. We’ll see you next door in about forty minutes.”

They both look a little lost. Loki ducks around the caterers with wide eyes; Thor jams his empty hands in his pockets. She gives them a last shoo. This time they finally do make their way out the back door and down the steps. She watches them from the kitchen window. Loki is still favoring one foot and wobbling a little – his shorts and flip-flips may be adorable, but they’re probably not the best choice given his situation – but Thor has him by the elbow and is still steering him carefully when they round the corner of the house and disappear from view.

“Don’t worry,” Odin says as he comes up behind her. “We’ll put them back to work Monday and everything will go right back to normal.”

She twists to give him a quick kiss. “I know, I know. Still, can you believe it?”

He laughs. “What I _can’t_ believe,” he tells her, “is that we’re old enough to have sons who have _graduated from high school_.”

It’s a long time before the- the _men_ (and isn’t _that_ going to take some getting used to!) in question reappear, arms around each other, chatting happily as they make their slow way across the field that divides their property from Mrs. Wallace’s. “They look peaceful,” Odin says, and he’s right. Thor has an arm draped loosely around his brother’s waist; Loki’s hand is tucked in Thor’s hip pocket. Frigga can’t quite see their faces from here, but there’s no mistaking the way they’re grinning and nodding.

She looks up at her husband; he’s smiling, too. “You know,” she says, “it really is a great day for a party.”


	77. Chapter 77

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One good turn deserves another.

Mrs. Wallace’s daytime aide – Jerry, _short for nothing_ , he’d said when Thor’d asked him - meets them at the door. “She’s a little slow getting ready today,” he warns them. “I don’t think she’s feeling all that great, what with the heat, but when I tried suggesting she stay inside she wouldn’t even let me finish my sentence.”

Loki smiles. He’s not setting a particularly great example, limping all he way over here in sandals because he isn’t looking dorky at his own party even if being suitably chic kills him. “I can try talking to her,” he tells the aide, “but from past experience I wouldn’t expect any miracles.”

The aide laughs. “Oh, I’m not. She’s a great old lady, but she does things her own way and there’s pretty much no helping it.”

“By this point,” Loki says, “I suppose she’s earned that.” She has. “But I really will try,” he assures Jerry. He will. He has to.

“ _We_ will,” Thor amends. His brother means well, and it’s a nice enough gesture, but Loki knows that if Mrs. Wallace won’t listen to him there’s no way she’s going to listen to _the other Odinson_.

~

“Hey there,” Loki says, loudly, from the top of the stairs. “It’s a scorcher out there! I thought I was going to melt on the way over. What if we-?”

That’s as far as he gets before her head appears in her bedroom doorway. She’s actually wearing curlers, the good old-fashioned metal mesh kind, and he knows right then and there that he’s doomed. They all are. “Being old may have made me weak and slow,” she says, “but it hasn’t made me stupid. Don’t for one single instant think I don’t know what you’re up to. You and that brother of yours and my Jerry.”

“We’re not up to-,” Loki starts again, but doesn’t bother to finish. It’s not even worth the effort. He’s only going to get her all the more riled up, and that isn’t going to gain anyone anything. “It’s really hot,” he says, pleading now. “I’m happy to move part of the party indoors, so you don’t have to sit out there in it. I’ll even hang out in here with you. See? No games.” He shrugs, palms up and out in supplication. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“I’ve waited a long time for this moment, young man,” Mrs. Wallace reminds him. “Seeing you two get this far means as much to me as watching my own kids graduate. Grant an old lady what she wants, won’t you?”

Loki leans against the railing and cocks his head. He looks at her sideways. With the curlers she looks kind of like a fancy mushroom. “Even if I tell you no,” he says, resigned, “I know you’re coming outside anyway.”

She winks. “Of course I am. Still, you go ahead and say it. I’ll take the blame.”

“Fine.” He sighs. If she’s going to give him any sort of out, even a feeble one, he’ll take it. His parents are no idiots; the more he can get away with without having to lie, the better. That, and it will help a little with the guilt, too. “No, it’s too hot for you to be outside today,” he tells her sternly. “Please, stay indoors and I will bring you food. And Thor. And myself,” he adds, trying his hardest not to smile. “And whatever else you want, as long as it’s even something I’m able to provide you.”

“A valiant effort,” she muses, mock-pretending to think it over. “Impressive. And I am tempted. But, no. Now go back downstairs and tell Jerry to get his lazy rear end up here so he can help me finish getting ready.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Loki says. He salutes, a little sloppily. “I’ll just be getting out of your way now,” he teases her, turning to sidle down the stairs.

“Don’t forget about Jerry,” she calls after him. “And Loki? What did you do to yourself?”

Loki turns to face her. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says, with his best wide-eyed, innocent look.

“Smartass,” she jabs.

He winks right back at her. “You know what they say: it takes one to know one.”

They share a laugh, this time. “Get out of here,” she tells him again, and he does.

~

“Yeah, no luck,” Loki tells Thor and Jerry in the kitchen. “Don’t even bother,” he says as his brother tries to squeeze past him. “There’s no way she’s going to budge on this one. She does want your lazy ass back upstairs, though,” he warns Jerry.

The aide straightens his scrubs. They’re pale blue, with stethoscope-sporting rubber duckies on them. The overall effect is rather _footie pajamas_ , but Loki opts not to comment. “Her wish is my command,” Jerry says. “And yours. Look, thanks for trying. Go back to whatever you were planning on doing. I’m sure I’ll see the two of you later.”

“And I’ll make sure my mom gives you something to eat,” Loki promises him. “If it looks like mom’s idea, Mrs. Wallace will have to let you join us.”

“He’s right,” Thor chimes in. “No one dares to say no to our mother. Come on, gimpy,” he kids, reaching out to take Loki’s shoulder. His hand is far too warm and more than a little sticky, but it’s nice to be _touched_ again and Loki lets it go. “Let’s set the yard up before anyone else gets here and tells us not to.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Loki says, digging his feet in a little and making his brother pull him. It’s worth it, even though doing so only makes his foot hurt more. “I was kind of looking forward to my one afternoon as a pampered princess.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Thor huffs. “Come with me, your highness.” He ducks, and Loki is just a fraction of a second too slow to catch on to what he’s doing. That’s all the time it takes, too.

“Hey! Put me the fuck down,” he squeals as his brother slings him up and over one shoulder.

Thor gives him a sharp smack on the butt. “Language, _princess_ ,” his brother teases. “Don’t make me tell Mrs. Wallace on you.”

“What’s going on down there,” she calls down as Thor lugs Loki past the foot of the stairs. “No horseplay in the house!”

Loki smiles into his brother’s side. “Got that, Thor,” he asks. “ _No horseplay_.”

“Sorry,” Thor yells up the stairs. “We’re going outside right now. _In the house_ ,” he corrects quietly as the door swings open. As it closes behind them, he runs his fingers lightly up the back of Loki’s leg. It tickles horribly, and Loki shrieks and kicks and slaps him. “Out here in the yard, I can do anything I want to you.”

“Can _not_ ,” Loki protests. He bites Thor just behind the arm and kicks free as his brother jumps away. They both go down hard, harder than Loki meant to. For a few seconds he can’t make his body breathe.

“I might as well, now,” Thor says, pinning him and ducking in to kiss him. “We’re already dirty.”

Loki kisses back for a long time before he pushes his brother away. “Let me up,” he says, finally. “You know mom will _beat_ us.” Not like she ever has, or ever will, but he likes the drama of it.

“We’re grownups now,” Thor says. “She can’t.” But he gets up anyway, and when he offers a hand Loki takes it.


	78. Chapter 78

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'cos it's a party-arty-arty-arty...

It may just be the best party ever.

~

Loki does get to be a fairy princess after all. Best of all he doesn't get mad when Thor describes him that way - to Jerry, even - which is unto itself a momentous occasion.

Thor looks him over, smiling broadly. The caterers must have snuck him some foil before things really got going; some of the heavy-duty stuff Frigga only uses when it's time to roast the Thanksgiving turkey, meaning it’s never lying around the house otherwise. Wherever it came from, Loki’s painstakingly fashioned the aluminum into two perfect, crinkly crown-cum-tiaras. One graces his own head, the other teeters atop Mrs. Wallace's.

As Thor watches, Loki takes turns daintily fanning first their elderly neighbor and then himself with a hunk of ripped cardboard box lid. The two of them giggle and smile, Loki and Mrs. Wallace, snuggled close with a plate of appetizers and a collection of shared secrets.

Something about it is so perfect, Thor wants to cry.

~

The food is lovely. It's too fancy for a picnic, for paper plates and plastic cutlery and handmade tiaras. When Thor tells his mother as much, she just pats his cheek and reminds him they’re both worth it.

Earlier in the afternoon Loki and Thor had sworn (okay, been made to swear, really) that they would refrain from spiking the rainbow sherbet punch. Thor knows he didn't do it, and his brother hasn't moved from the heavy teak outdoor sectional - it's destined for their house, but Frigga'd had it delivered here a few days ago (along with its green-and-white-striped weatherproof cushions) instead so Mrs. Wallace would have a comfortable place to sit during this party - since before they’d all started in on the hors d'oeuvres.

Still, there's enough- _something_ in his second glass to make his throat burn and his eyes water. Thor watches as his parents clink their own tumblers and wonders which one of them is _causing trouble_.

He brings his brother a big glass, and Mrs. Wallace a smaller one.

Loki takes a sip and screws his face up against the sting. "Little sips," he orders as Mrs. Wallace swallows a healthy mouthful of her own punch. "We don't want you getting out of control now, do we?"

She throws her head back and laughs. "Oh, don't worry. Jerry here will never let me. Jerry? Be a dear and fan us, won't you?"

The aide looks up at him with the same long-suffering expression Thor knows has graced his own face far, far more times than he can ever hope to remember. "Yes, ma'am," Jerry says, carefully taking the fan from Loki. "Anything for you."

"Anything for my _boy_ here," she corrects. Loki takes a much bigger gulp and hiccups. "Ooooh," Mrs. Wallace exclaims, wiping her eyes. She’s still laughing. "Pace yourself, darling."

"Can I get you some," Thor asks Jerry.

The aide sighs. He fans himself briefly while his charges aren't looking. "I'd better not," he tells Thor. "Someone has to steer this thing."

Thor nicely brings Jerry some ginger ale instead. Plain, pristine, and right out of the bottle.

~

Dinner involves all sorts of fabulous-looking chilled salads nestled in ice-filled chafing dishes. The gourmet burgers are just as tempting, and Thor adds one for his brother as he fills a plate with a little of everything.

Loki tries to feed Mrs. Wallace but the punch has left his aim a little off. Jerry's fast; he grabs everything before the two princesses can accidentally overturn it.

Thor feeds his brother. Mrs. Wallace pouts and sulks and feeds herself.

Jerry gives up and digs into the plate Frigga brings him. "No, no, make yourself at home," she insists when he protests. "We're happy to have you here."

~

There's still plenty of food left at dusk, when Sif and Volstagg stop by. Volstagg has his new girlfriend - Hilde, Thor's pretty sure she’d said her name was, even after enough more punch that he's yawning - in tow. Hilde’s white-blonde and pretty and Loki hurries to make her a (sloppier) tiara of her own. She's a good sport about it, too.

Thor takes his old friend aside and tells Volstagg "you've found a keeper."

Volstagg smiles. He nods towards Loki, where the three of them – Loki, Hilde, Mrs. Wallace - are all flopped on the sectional together. "Yeah," Volstagg tells Thor. "You, too."

~

Loki finally struggles to his feet. Hilde can entertain Mrs. Wallace for a few minutes – she’s wearing lovely sparkly nail polish he’d kind of like to have for himself, and the two of them are deep in conversation about it – and he knows he did promise Blue and Jonah a chance to join the party.

It’s a good thing Sif follows him as he weaves his way over to the barn, because even with the lights on he’s somehow all thumbs and can’t get the stupid stall door open.

“Your parents are more fun than mine,” Sif says as she sets his hands (gently) aside and deftly works the stubborn latch mechanism. “We had baked chicken and green beans… and they toasted my brilliant future with sun tea. Seriously,” she complains as he bursts out laughing. “You wouldn’t have thought it was nearly this funny if you’d been stuck there.”

She’s probably right. “Well, you’re here now,” he assures her. “Have some punch. Pet a goat. Live a little.”

Sif snorts. “Why is your butt so dirty,” she asks as he bends to fumble with the lead he’s trying to clip to Jonah’s collar. “You’re covered with grass stains.”

He smiles up at her. “Would you believe me if I said Thor pushed me?”

“No,” she tells him. They lead Blue out of the stall together, one on each side.

“Good,” he says cheerfully, leaning in to look at her from under Blue’s neck and nearly getting stepped on again in the process, “’cos I’m lying.”

~

They pull out the sparklers as soon as it’s even close to dark, because Loki wants Mrs. Wallace to see them and Jerry’s already insisting he needs to get her to bed shortly.

They all take turns drawing big spiraling loops and writing their names in the air. Thor catches his brother writing _Thor_ just as he himself is forming the swoopy cursive _k_ in the middle of _Loki_.

~

The caterers finally pack up, just as the mosquitoes are starting to get bad and Odin has to fire up the _bug zapper_. Thor and Sif and Volstagg help him with the furniture; Loki and Hilde trail after Jerry to tuck Mrs. Wallace in and wish her good night.

Loki almost manages to fall down the stairs. Fortunately, Thor isn’t there to see him.

~

By 10:00 or so, even with the zapper, the bugs are eating them alive. As they get ready to go their separate ways – just for the evening, for now; they have all summer, but it somehow feels like they’re parting forever – they say their goodbyes and things get a little crazy.

~

Hilde hasn’t even gotten into the punch when she loudly stage-whispers to Thor that she and Volstagg are pregnant and she really hopes they’ll get married.

~

“I can’t believe you’re fucking leaving,” Loki tells Sif a few minutes later. “Going away to school and all.” He has both arms wrapped sloppily around her.

“That’s okay,” she fires back. “I can’t believe you’re fucking Thor.”

“Hey,” he huffs. “Who told you?”

Sif stretches up to kiss him on the tip of the nose. “You did.”

~

Odin stays behind after everyone else is gone, just to make sure all the candles are out and the worst of the mess is dealt with. “Go, go,” he shoos Thor and Loki. “It’s your big day. I’ll do this.”

He doesn’t have to tell them twice. Okay, yeah, he does, but he doesn’t have to tell them a third time. They stumble back to the house, arms around each other. “I don’t want any of this to ever end,” Loki mumbles into Thor’s neck as they reach the edge of their own property.

Thor pulls his brother into a tight embrace. “Yeah,” he says. “Me neither.”


	79. Chapter 79

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scheming grownups are scheming.

Odin stands in the big arc of dappled shade cast by the trees near the corner of the porch and watches for Frigga’s car. The weather is still unseasonably hot a week after graduation weekend, not to mention how they’re fast approaching the time of year where this _will_ be _seasonable_ weather. It’s one of the few downsides of working from home… right now he can’t even remember what it’s like not to feel like he’s going to be melting forever.

The boys are at a movie. Odin is still feeling faintly ashamed of himself; in a very real sense he’d actually paid them to leave, so he and their mother would have the chance to meet with Mrs. Wallace on the sly. On top of that, he’d gone on to be almost mean when they’d hemmed and hawed and procrastinated. “Go,” he’d insisted as he forked over a couple of twenties. “Find somewhere cold to hang out. Having the two of you moping around this place while I’m trying to work is driving me crazy.”

It hadn’t been, but a plan is a plan.

Frigga’s right: it’s long past time they made one.

~

“Are you getting cold feet about this,” he’d asked her the night before last when she’d mentioned yet again that she just didn’t feel like Loki – or Thor, for that matter – was anywhere near ready to take on a household. “Plenty of-“ ( _kids_ , he’d only just stopped himself from saying) “people their age live alone. Some of them are even parents.”

She’d shaken her head. “No,” she’d insisted. “I think it’s a great idea, and I’m still all for it. I love the thought of them living here forever. But we need to face reality,” she’d reminded him. “Much as I hate to say it, Mrs. Wallace could reach a point where she simply can’t live there – or worse – at any time. We owe it to our sons to ensure they’re not totally unprepared.”

He knows she’s right, and he’d told her so. His own mother had died young, leaving him and his father to fend for themselves, and even with Bor there he’d had to learn a lot of fast, hard lessons about contractors and housework and managing money.

It’s certainly not something he wants his boys to have to go through.

“I just- I guess I don’t like to think about Mrs. Wallace dying,” he’d finally admitted. Frigga had smiled sadly and leaned in to kiss him on the temple.

“You know,” she’d conceded, “I don’t either. I absolutely don’t. But we both know refusing to talk about it isn’t going to magically make her live forever.”

~

The car bumps up the driveway in a small cloud of sticky, gritty dust. Odin sneezes. It’s not even quite July and he’s already tiring of summer. _You’re such an old man_ , he tells himself as he lowers himself into the passenger seat.

“Ready,” his wife asks, gently. He makes himself smile and nod.

~

Once the conversation gets underway, it’s not anywhere near as bad as he’d expected. It feels less like waiting for death and more like developing a business strategy… which is something Odin can do, in his sleep, without half trying. All in all the afternoon is time well spent. He and Frigga come away with the makings of a good, workable approach, one that solves not just one but many problems and that feels _real_ to both of them.

~

“We stopped over to see Mrs. Wallace today,” Odin tells his sons as they sit at the kitchen table guzzling water. Any good the cool theatre might have done them, they’ve undone biking back out to the farm. “Today, I mean, after your mother got home from work.” That’s honest enough, albeit incomplete; unless he’s pressed, he won’t admit Frigga’d left her desk hours earlier than usual. “Since the two of you would otherwise be living a life of leisure until college starts up in the fall, she says has a job offer for you.”

Loki looks puzzled. His eyebrows wrinkle together. It’s one of his cutest expressions; Odin has long since noticed Thor just can’t resist it. “Is everything okay over there,” Loki says, starting to push himself up to standing. “Do we need to go over now and-.”

“Everything’s fine,” Odin assures him. “Finish your drinks, both of you.” He nudges Loki’s glass closer. “You can ask her about it when you’re done feeding the animals.” He smiles at Thor, and then at Loki. “I’m sure she’s looking forward to telling you about it.”

~

They ride their bikes next door. This time of year it stays light long enough that, as long as they don’t get sidetracked in the woodshop or spend forever dawdling, they can make it back home before it gets dangerously dark out.

Loki leaps off his bike and rushes into the living room without waiting for Thor to catch up. He skids to a graceless stop mere inches short of slamming right into Jerry. “Someone’s eager for work,” Jerry says to Mrs. Wallace as Loki stammers out a jumbled apology.

“Ah, the boundless energy of youth,” she jokes. “Seriously, Loki, what’s gotten into you?”

Thor fidgets as Loki hugs himself. He looks so, so uncomfortable; Thor longs to snuggle up behind him and snake a warm, sweaty arm or two around his middle. “What’s going on,” Loki asks, voice wavering.

“I’m tired of living in a dump,” Mrs. Wallace says cheerfully. “That’s all. And you two are at that age where you have more time than money. Like I told your parents, I think I just might be able to solve all of our problems.”

Loki’s shoulders come down from where they’ve been hovering halfway to his ears. “That’s really it? Honestly? There’s really nothing wrong?”

“Relax, my little suspicious one,” she teases him. “The two of you have done such a good job around the barn… I just want you to branch out a little.”

~

_A little_ turns out to be much more like _a lot_. Thor and Loki leave Bright Start Farm over an hour later with a long list of chores they’re to divide between themselves. It’s a comprehensive list, too, with everything from reglazing windows to helping manage the checkbook to stripping and waxing the kitchen linoleum.

“Do you think she’s tricking us into fixing the place up so she can sell it,” Loki asks as they bike up their own long driveway, “because that would really suck.”

Thor shrugs and makes a face, even though he’s riding behind his brother and there’s no way Loki’s going to see it. “I hope not,” he says, with feeling. His brother is right about it sucking. “Maybe,” he suggests, “mom or dad will tell us.”

~

“Don’t be silly,” Frigga admonishes. “She just wants the place cleaned up, and it’s high time you two were a little better at looking after yourselves. So: win-win. What’s not to like about that?”

Frankly, Loki can think of any number of things. He’s just not dumb enough to say so.


	80. Chapter 80

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It takes a village...

They experiment a little, to see who's best at what and decide who has the highest tolerance for those (comparatively few) chores which turn out to be unrelentingly odious. Thor is little surprised by the speed with which they all settle into a surprisingly comfortable, easy division of labor that works for everyone; not just the two of them, but also Mrs. Wallace and Jerry.

The barn is strictly Thor's and Loki's responsibility, although Mrs. Wallace still likes to come watch them from time to time. The walk down the uneven path is too much for her most days, so they all work together to pick out a cool fat-tired wheelchair that gets her there without being too- dorky, Loki calls the more typical chairs, and Mrs. Wallace agrees.

Thor handles the actual home repairs. At first he often has to (have Loki, typically; making appointments is one of those distasteful things neither of them fancies doing) call one of her contractors, mostly to give himself a chance to sniff around and study their methods, but as the summer slowly unwinds he gets better and better.

Everyone able-bodied helps with the day-to-day cleaning.

Loki takes on the new checking account, the one Mrs. Wallace has dedicated to covering all the household expenses. He painstakingly writes Jerry's checks, too, along with checks for most of her routine bills, but those are all out of her private accounts; he brings each one to her for signature. Thor privately thinks the two of them, with their color-coded checkbooks and matching pens, are organized long past the point of _ridiculousness_... but they seem to be enjoying themselves (and _he's_ not stuck messing with any of it) so he keeps his opinion to himself this time.

If nothing else, Thor knows, he can use the practice.

Jerry likes to cook. Even though it's an elephant-sized non-secret that Loki cooks better, his brother also says nothing. Thor's proud to see Loki picking battles. Jerry was here first, in at least this one sense, and they’re careful not to seem like they're encroaching on his territory. They have their parents to fall back on, whereas this is Jerry's only income. That's something Mrs. Wallace had pointed out to the two of them, in private, at the very beginning of the summer.

It’s certainly not the kind of thing either Thor or Loki sees any gain in challenging.

On the other hand, Jerry _doesn't_ like to bake. Neither does the night aide (who, from what Thor can see, mostly wants to sleep unless she's really, really needed; he totally doesn't get it, but it’s not his business and neither Jerry nor Mrs. Wallace seems particularly bothered by her attitude). Loki, of course, loves everything about baking. The gas oven takes some getting used to, and there are still a few things Loki makes at home and brings over, but he's getting better and better at wrangling the alien appliance and no one is complaining.

Jerry and Loki both do laundry. Thor tries hard not to.

Thor and Loki split doing their own dishes. They can both sew adequately, and unclog toilets, but only Thor will snake regular drains. Loki can't even be in the room when the need arises - slimy blobs of hair make him gag.

~

On days when they don't have much to do, they tackle what they've jointly dubbed Operation Cleanout. The name makes them giggle, even though it really is all about rooms and not about- bodies. Loki is the brains of the project; he chooses the rooms and brings all the questionable items down to Mrs. Wallace for review. She labels almost everything _trash_ or _yard sale_. He runs each new find by her anyway, with the same obsessive persistence he applies to her banking.

By contrast, Thor is the muscle. He's in charge of all the heavy lifting: any furniture that's beyond use; old carpeting; the garbage cans and boxes of sorted stuff.

The rooms look surprisingly _nice_ empty. Their old floors could use refinishing, but that's easy enough to ignore once all the dusty old things are gone. It’s a pretty house, underneath everything.

"Houses don't sell well empty," Loki mentions (fishes) a month or so in, when the whole upstairs is cleared out and Thor's starting to think he's going to have to mow the entire pasture for this _yard sale_. "Something about people needing help visualizing a home's potential."

Mrs. Wallace laughs. She has to cough for a little bit afterwards, but they're used to that. They've gotten used to a lot of things, if they really stop and think about it. Thor tries not to, and he’s pretty sure his brother does much the same. "Well, if that's how it is," she says once she's caught her breath again, "how lucky are we that I'm not going to _be_ selling?"

Loki looks at Thor from over her shoulder, where he's been dangling a 1960's-style mobile for evaluation. Both eyebrows shoot up. His mouth forms a shocked little pink circle.

"Won't your kids get stuck doing it at some point, though," Thor (picks up the imaginary baton and) asks her.

She rolls her eyes. "You two,” she chides, “are hopelessly nosy. Just trust me, won't you? I promise,” she adds, looking back and forth at both of them, “that there's no cause for worry. None. Now don’t you have something you should be doing?”

When they trudge back upstairs, Thor can hear Mrs. Wallace coughing again. He nudges his brother. “Yeah,” Loki says. “I guess we ought to behave a little better. Sorry.”

Loki looks and sounds so dejected that Thor only feels that much guiltier.

~

“It’s not my tale to tell,” Odin reminds Loki that evening as Thor hovers behind his brother. “You’ll just have to trust her, like she’s asked you to.”

“But you do know what’s going on,” Loki presses, “don’t you? Can’t you tell me that, at least?”

“Let an old lady have her secrets,” Frigga chides from the doorway. Thor hadn’t realized she’d come up behind him; he jumps. From Loki’s undignified squeak, too, Thor’s pretty sure he’s not the only one she’s startled. “If there’s something you might need to know, and she wants to share it with either of you, I’m sure she’ll find a way to do so. But until then,” she warns, “for the sake of your own sanity, _let it go_.”

“Don’t talk about yourself that way,” Loki teases after a pause that’s a beat or two too long. “You’re not that old, seriously.” He jumps (again) and squeals as she snaps her dishtowel against Odin’s desk an inch or so from his butt.

“Just remember,” she tells him, “you’re never too old for a good spanking.”

_That’s_ certainly true. Thor has to bite his own lip really, really hard to keep from laughing.


	81. Chapter 81

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone can crack a little under pressure...
> 
> (There's a little bit of mildly graphic stuff in here, but it's not real)

The dreams start in early August, about four weeks before classes are scheduled to begin. He and his brother have been getting materials from their soon-to-be college (he just isn’t willing or able to think of the place as _his_ college yet; calling it that, even in the privacy of his own head, makes Loki think of official school binders and sweatshirts and logo’d pens and pep rallies… all of which, taken in aggregate, leaves him feeling horribly claustrophobic) for weeks now. he knows they will soon be facing orientation, and registration, and vaccination, and-, and… the list goes on and on. The closer it all gets, the less he wants to do it.

In terms of interest, he had set a low bar to start with. By now his _looking forward to school_ level is practically subterranean.

But one of that, stressful as it undoubtedly is, factors into what he’s been dreaming.

The dreams are worse.

Everyone is dying.

One night it’s Blue. Loki sits up so fast he practically falls out of bed, sweaty and frantic and crying. His sleepy brain can’t resolve his dream world, where he’d just been in Mrs. Wallace’s barn squatting in the biggest stall and trying in vain to wake the horse, with the patchy moonlit reality he sees around him; for far too long he doesn’t know where he is or what’s going on. He doesn’t dare go back to sleep for over an hour, and when he finally gets up the nerve to try again he finds he isn’t able to. All day, he can’t shake the feeling something terrible has happened… even long after he and Thor are _at_ Bright Star and Blue is busy nosing at his pockets in search of treats, Loki finds himself stuck in some sort of awful mental limbo.

Another night it’s Mrs. Wallace herself. In his dream, he walks into the kitchen – and it’s always just there him all alone, with Thor nowhere to be found – and finds her lying stiff and cold on the floor. She has a sponge clutched in one claw-like hand and the broken remains of a dish in the other, and all he can think is that they’ve failed her somehow. If they’d finished their chores like they’d been supposed to, none of it would ever have happened. It’s so realistic that he has to find Jerry before he feels safe even going in the house the following day.

The dreams go on and on. No one, it seems, is safe. Loki’s twisted, horrid mind kills Jonah and Jerry and Odin and Volstagg and runs one of the barn cats over with some football player’s car. It even executes Tony; in that dream, which is so weirdly fascinating he’s disgusted with himself for days afterwards, Loki finds Thor’s friend floating – bloated and pale – in the Stark family pool. He tells everyone he can find. By the time he wakes up, bleary and exhausted, he’s told an entire houseful of people there’s a dead person in the pool. Not a single one is willing to listen.

~

The day he and his brother have to register for classes – it’s before orientation; he can’t figure out _how_ you’re supposed to have _any idea_ what you might want to be taking – Loki is extra-tired. He’s driven them all over the place, between campus and Bright Star and home and Bright Star again and then finally the diner over near Fandral’s for coffee and sundaes with Sif. It’s late when they get home. Summer is taking on that frantic _before you know it, this will all be over_ feeling and the two of them are packing their days far too full of- of anything and everything.

As exhausted as he is, Loki still struggles to fall asleep. Thor wraps around him like a blanket, or a snake; tight and suffocating. Loki is too warm. He can’t breathe, he can’t get comfortable. The clock shows 1:00 AM and he’s wide-awake, nauseated and shaking.

He shuts his eyes and burrows into his pillow. Sleep has to be in here somewhere…

It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to him, so very, very bad he can’t stop screaming.

“Loki? Loki! Wake up!”

Thor sounds both out of breath and frantic, two things which Loki knows are completely impossible _because his brother is dead_. He’s seen it with his own eyes and touched it with his own hands… Thor sprawled twisted and bloody in the road, halfway between their driveway and Mrs. Wallace’s. His brother’s bike is in the ditch, its front wheel bent and its frame crumpled. He’s dimly aware of a pickup truck pulled off to the side of the road and of people screaming and crying, but he can’t deal with them – with any of it – right now. All he can do is kneel on the asphalt, in the blood and gravel and the broken glass, and touch Thor’s face.

His fingers come away dripping red.

He’s not sure he’ll ever stop screaming again.

“ _LOKI!!_ ”

“Mmph?” Loki’s tongue is oddly thick in his dry mouth. “Leggo!” He struggles, thrashing violently against the person who has his arms pinned against his sides. “Let me go,” he slurs a little more clearly, kicking and squirming. “I have to stay with him.”

“Huh? Stay with who,” the person holding him asks. The voice still sounds exactly like Thor’s and it simply can’t be. His mind is playing tricks on him. Loki wonders briefly if, now that Thor is gone forever, everyone’s voice will magically sound like it’s his brother’s.

If so, it’s going to drive him fucking crazy.

“Loki? Do I need to get mom?”

That snaps him partially out of his stupor. “What? No! I’ve left her a message already. Who are you?”

“Stop it, Loki. You’re scaring me,” the voice says a little frantically. “Wake up. Here, look at me.”

Loki does, because has no choice; he’s grabbed firmly by the chin and steered into position.

_Thor_. He gulps.

“It’s just me, Thor,” his brother says. “Wake up,” Thor tries again. “You screamed. And screamed. I think you were having a nightmare.”

He swallows and tries to wet his tongue by sliding it around in his sticky mouth. “You’re dead,” he finally manages. “Why are you still talking to me?”

“Wait, what?”

“You’re-,” Loki starts. That’s about when he realizes the whole conversation is both stupid and impossible. He shakes his head in a not-completely-successful attempt to clear the cobwebs. “Okay, fine,” he huffs. He’s suddenly ridiculously annoyed about- about everything. It’s stupid and he knows it but he can’t seem to stop himself, “I guess I _was_ dreaming,” he admits, finally. “But it was so real.”

“I’m right here,” Thor tells him, snuggling him close. “I’ve got you.”

They sit like that for several minutes, Loki with tears running down his face (and dripping a little uncomfortably off the edge of his jaw) and Thor with both arms wrapped tightly around him. Eventually, Thor asks “do mom and dad know this is happening?”

“No,” Loki says. “It’s just bad dreams. I’m not a baby anymore; I can take it. It’s just stupid.” He lets Thor manhandle him into an even-more-smothering hug and keep him there until they’re warm and sweaty and he’s on the edge of drifting back to sleep. “Okay,” he says, caving, before they doze off and the whole thing is mostly forgotten. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll talk to mom tomorrow. Today. Whatever. Now can I lie down, please?”

Thor gives him one last squeeze and then tips them both over in an awkward, flailing heap. “I’m here,” his brother says again, breath hot against the side of his face, “and I love you.”

“Yeah,” Loki says. He’s recovered some of his cool. “I know. Oww,” he grumbles as Thor elbows his ribs. “Stop it.”

~

“Thor wants me to tell you that I keep having nightmares,” Loki explains to Frigga as she’s packing her lunch. She takes food with her to work most days, and when she’s running late Loki helps her get it ready. “It’s getting on his nerves,” he says shrugging. He’s promised Thor he’ll talk about it; he hasn’t promised to be honest.

Not that a little lying gets him far. His mom skips right over the _Thor_ part and goes straight for the heart of the matter. “Oh, sweetie,” she says, setting the almond butter down and wiping the knife with a damp scrap of paper towel. “What do you think might be bothering you?”

He sighs. “I’m not sure,” he starts. From the look on her face he can already tell he hasn’t given her nearly enough information. “I feel like I’m losing- everything. Too much, anyway.”

She hums. “Graduating and going off to college, even when you’re staying in town, means a lot of change,” she says. “I’m not surprised it’s freaking you out a little.”

It’s that, but it isn’t. Not entirely, anyway. “I know Mrs. Wallace isn’t getting any better,” he tells his mother. “And I know you said she just wants her house cleaned up and isn’t planning on selling it. I do believe you,” he assures her, partly because he isn’t up to a lecture right now and partly because the look on her face has him feeling just plain feeling guilty. “It’s just- once she- once she doesn’t live there anymore, it’s going to have to be sold, right? And then what will happen to- to Blue? To Jonah? We can probably bring the cats over here,” he adds, narrowing his eyes and daring her to say _no_ , “but what about the woodshop? What about Thor’s schooling? What about- oof!”

Frigga wraps him in a hug that squashes all the air out of him. He’s everyone’s ragdoll these days. “Loki, Loki,” she says, taking him by the upper arms and pushing him back far enough that he has no choice but to look at her. “You have to trust me on this one. Nothing bad is going to happen to the farm, okay? Nothing.”

He frowns. “But how-,” he starts.

“No,” she says, “no questions. Just trust me.”

She meets his glare without flinching, until he’s the one who has to look away. “Okay,” he concedes, finally. “I’ll try. But I don’t understand.”

“That’s fine,” she says. “I won’t ask you to.” She gives him a gentle little shake. “Here, help me finish this up before I’m late to work, won’t you?”

It’s a relief to be given something to do. “Of course,” he says. “Want some salad?”


	82. Chapter 82

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is about _timing_.

Frigga sits in the shade at the edge of the porch, her dusty feet dangling, and looks out over the yard. Maybe ten yards away her husband stands watching a hawk circling over the old pasture. They both know fall is coming, even in the last blaze of summer.

In less than two weeks now their boys start classes – the twins have to go to orientation for three full days next week, although as commuter students they can (and have) opt(ed) not to spend the intervening nights on campus – and she’s still less than thrilled with how Loki is doing.

Odin turns to look up at her, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand. “What do you want to do,” he calls out to her.

She hums quietly to herself. Even though she’s been thinking of little else for weeks now, Frigga still feels like she needs more time to come to the right conclusion. Except there isn’t any more time left, not with the questions Loki has been asking. “I think we need to talk to Mrs. Wallace,” she tells her husband sadly. “I know she wants the whole thing about the farm to be a surprise – I know _you_ want it to be one, for that matter – and I really do like the idea in theory, but Loki’s way too close to catching on.” She chews the inside of her lip and squints at Odin. “From this point forward I don’t see how we can possibly continue keeping him in the dark without lying.”

The hawk gives up on whatever it was hunting and glides off to disappear beyond the edge of the woodlot. Odin walks slowly back across the yard. “And,” he asks, taking a seat beside her. “Don’t bother pretending otherwise,” he tells her, taking her hand in his, “because I can see there’s some sort of big, scary _and_ going on in here.” He pulls their joined hands up and uses her knuckles to tap her lightly on the forehead. “Honey,” he begs, “please tell me.”

It’s yet another hot day, but there’s a nice enough breeze for a change. Frigga’s barely even sweating. She lets her husband pull her in close, until she’s resting flat against his chest. She sighs. “ _And_ I think we should have Loki talk with Dr. Banner. Or, at least,” she adds before he can protest (because he’s going to; she can all but feel it), “I think we should talk to Dr. Banner _about_ Loki and see if he has any advice.”

“For coping with the insomnia,” he finishes. She nods against his front. His shirt is soft and smells like- like sunshine.

“That, and just the way he’s having such a hard time in general,” she says. “It’s easy enough to assume we know what he’s going through, but I doubt we do. In fact, I’m pretty sure that even _he’s_ not certain.”

She rests there quietly, listening to Odin’s heart beating and feeling the slow, gentle rise and fall of his ribcage. “I don’t know,” he says to the top of her head. He hasn’t needed to go out to a customer site in at least two weeks – this time of year, everyone is resting up before the harvest and has little interest in talking to either consultants or vendors – and it shows; his rough stubble catches her hair as he talks. “Loki’s not a big fan of therapy.”

That’s true, but it doesn’t solve their problem. “I’ll make an appointment for just the two of us, then,” she tells him. “But either way I think we need to talk to Mrs. Wallace.”

He kisses her fingers. “I know.”

~

“I see what you mean,” Mrs. Wallace admits as Frigga stands at the kitchen counter making them iced coffee. “I guess that boy of yours is just too smart for us old fogeys.”

“So you don’t mind if we talk to him- to _them_ ,” Odin asks her. “I know how much you were looking forward to surprising them both.”

Mrs. Wallace laughs. “Thank you, dear,” she says as Frigga hands her a tall, frosty blend of coffee and cream and sugar and ice cubes. “Think about it, Odin,” she points out. “I wasn’t actually going to _be_ here for the surprising anyway.” She smiles up at him, and then at Frigga. “Look at the bright side: at least this way we get to enjoy their reaction.”

Odin nods. He looks thoughtful. Frigga gets it; personally, she can’t even begin to imagine how that ridiculously obvious fact – that their neighbor will be dead when the boys get their present - has so eluded them. “Do you want to talk to them by yourself,” her husband offers, “or should we have a little party?”

“A party’s always nice,” Mrs. Wallace says, laughing. “But we should do it while Jerry’s out getting groceries, I think. I don’t want to panic anyone.”

“Fair enough,” Odin says with a tip of the head. He looks at Frigga. “Why don’t you call them?”

~

Thor and Loki are being irresponsible. They know it, and they both admit they’re feel a little guilty, but they’ve worked hard all summer and college is right around the corner. It’s now or never.

Given the choices, the two of them agree, they’re not really big fans of _never_.

Last night, when Frigga’d mentioned at dinner that she and Odin would both be taking the following day off and could spend some time helping Mrs. Wallace, they’d jumped at the chance to be kids one last time.

And, for a while, they had been.

The two of them have been down at the water since mid-morning.

On arrival they’d stripped to their underwear, as (back at the house) they’d been in far too much of a hurry to remember to bring trunks, and had neatly piled their clothes up by one of the big trees before walking hand-in-hand down the trail among the cattails. At first they’d simply lain head-to-toe on the dock – Loki’s fingers barely skimming along Thor’s nearer ankle – and watched the clouds floating overhead. When they’d tired of that, they’d trailed knee-deep in the water along the edge of the pond until they’d reached the rocky, reed-free “beach”… and then taken turns skipping stones across the rippling surface. It had all started out innocently enough - fun, not games – but before long it had become painfully clear that (contest or not) Thor was winning, decisively.

Loki might have tripped his brother.

Thor might have pulled Loki down with him into the water.

There might perhaps have been wrestling, and hair-pulling, and splashing, and some slapping and clawing that carried them back up the bank and into the shade of the trees.

All of which might even have led them right up to where they are now, their wet boxers stripped off, writhing against each other in an age-old dance that’s equal parts hunger and fury. Loki has _just_ gotten the upper hand, finally, with Thor’s bottom lip caught between his teeth and his own wet, slick thigh pushed between his brother’s. Thor’s fingers are tangled in Loki’s hair and his brother is giving it all back with the same frantic roughness and-.

_Fuck_.

There’s no mistaking that ringtone.

Loki groans. “Hey, guess what, it’s _mom_ ,” he complains to his panting brother. His own voice is thick and hoarse. “Awesome,” he rasps, chest heaving. “Just. Fucking. Awesome.”


	83. Chapter 83

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do tell.

"Swimming," they both tell her – hastily, and at the same time - when Frigga asks what the two of them have been doing. Their hair is half-dry in that fluffy sun-bleached way it gets when they've been out at the pond all day, but as they shift uncomfortably under her pointed inspection she can't help but notice that their clothes are oddly wet in unusual places.

Loki has two big bite marks on the side of his neck and Thor's bottom lip is red and swollen.

_Swimming, eh?_

“Come tell your dad hi,” Odin requests, both arms up in greeting. As Loki stretches, leaning out over the ottoman and giving his father a hug, his shirt pulls up to reveal long, reddened scratches. They trail down his back and disappear beneath the low waistband of his damp jeans.

It probably shouldn’t make her happy, but something about it- does.

"Well, then," Frigga tells them brightly, "I hope we didn't interrupt your- _swim_." She pauses a beat; Loki shoots Thor a tiny, private smile. "The three of us wanted to talk to you for a few minutes,” she goes on to explain, “while Jerry's off running errands."

Both her sons stiffen. "Is something wrong," Loki asks - it's his anthem nowadays - as Thor says "what's up with Jerry?"

"No no," Odin is quick to assure them. "Everything's fine. Jerry's fine. We just- well, this needs to stay secret." He looks at Frigga and nods encouragingly. Talking about feelings, even obliquely, still isn’t his thing.

"This was really meant be to kept secret from everyone," she tells her sons. "Mrs. Wallace wanted to surprise you, and so did your dad. And I," she tacks on, because it’s too late now to harbor reservations; this is a big, significant thing and she and Odin need to demonstrate solidarity. "But we’re finding keeping it quiet is just causing too much trouble.”

Loki's brows knit together; Thor bites his lip and stops suddenly, wincing. "You're not _moving_ , are you," Loki asks. "You can’t. We're only just starting school in a few days. Please, no."

Mrs. Wallace laughs, then coughs, then laughs some more. "Now I see what you mean," she tells Frigga. "They really are hopeless."

They aren't, though. Her boys are frightened, and they should be. "Odin," Frigga prompts her husband. "Why don't you go ahead and tell them?"

He gives her a pleading look; she ignores it. She deals with enough of that from her actual teenagers.

"Okay, fine." Odin says. He clears his throat. "Uh- we bought this farm, your mom and I. Mrs. Wallace was willing to part with it under two conditions," he goes on as the color drains out of Loki’s face and Thor’s mouth falls open. "First, she can continue to live here as long as she's willing and able and, second, even after she's gone we will honor her wishes. In short, that last part means the place actually belongs to the two of you. It's held in trust until you're old enough to officially take it on." He stops and makes a wry face at Frigga. She blows him a kiss. He’s better at this kind of thing than he thinks he is.

Loki looks at Thor, then Mrs. Wallace, and back again. "Holy f-," he starts and then claps both hands over his mouth. "Sorry," he mumbles through his fingers. "Oh my god. Oh. Wow. I just- I can't- I don't-."

Thor elbows his brother gently in the ribs. "Stop talking, Loki" he says, and Frigga is surprised to see her younger son looking almost _grateful_. "Thank you," Thor tells Mrs. Wallace. "I- I don't know what to say."

She beams. "Don't thank _me_ ," she says. "Thank your mother and father. It's a dream come true for me to see the place go to people who love animals and love wood and who- who belong here." She has to stop and cough some more. "Excuse me,” she says, eventually. “All I know is this: Mr. Wallace would be very, very proud."

"Just like your parents," Odin adds.

"Oh, sweetie," Frigga says to Loki, who's clinging to Thor's arm for dear life with tears streaming down his face. "This is a _good_ thing."

"Mm," Loki manages. He snuffs loudly. "I know. And thank you."

For a minute or two the only sound is that of Loki crying (and clearly trying not to).

Mrs. Wallace claps her hands together briskly. "Okay, then. Go wash up, both of you. Jerry will be back any minute, and he’s going to take one look at you and think someone died."

Thor gives Loki a little tug. "Why don't we go check in on the cats," he suggests instead. “Out in the barn, I mean.” As he turns to head for the door, Loki dutifully follows.

~

"How do you think that went," Odin asks his wife as they’re getting ready for dinner. Thor and Loki are out finishing up some work in their own yard - their original yard, anyway - and he is busily setting out glasses and opening sparkling wine for toasting. He's a bit worried, yes, but he's excited too and it feels like they should be celebrating.

Frigga stretches against the cabinets, catlike. While they may not be bound by flesh and blood, Loki shares nearly all her most familiar mannerisms. "The short version? I think it will be fine," she tells him. "Not right away, maybe, but they’ll come around once they have time to get used to it."

Odin frowns. He wants everything to be gone _now_ , not at some to-be-determined future point. In fact, when it comes down to it, he'd like to wipe all the cares in the world away. Of course he never manages to. "What about Jerry," he asks hid wife. There’s plenty of work for Jerry now, but the long-term fate of Mrs. Wallace’s aide has been worrying him. "You know our kids take in strays," _just like we do_ , he leaves unsaid. "When Mrs. Wallace goes, I’m sure they're going to want to keep him."

She shrugs. "I guess that would be up to Jerry, then," she says. "But I don’t think I would argue with having someone around to help with the housekeeping. Especially once school starts again and the boys need to focus on their studies."

“Okay,” he promises, because she always thinks of everything. “I’ll stop worrying.”

Frigga steps forward and winds her arms around his neck. “No, you won’t. But that’s okay… it’s one of the things I love about you.”


	84. Chapter 84

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adjusting isn't easy, especially when you are Loki.

Thor leans against the wall just inside the doorway and watches silently as Loki flakes out fresh straw. His brother’s shirt is still wet in places; it clings to the long lines of the muscles in Loki’s back beautifully. Thor is – as always, when he really takes the time to stop and look carefully at his brother… and each time he looks he’s reminded that he doesn’t do it nearly as often as he ought to – completely in awe of how gorgeous a creature Loki is. Everything about his brother’s body is amazing, and he could stare all day… except for how he can’t help but notice that Loki is moving in the sort of sharp, angry jerks that invariably mean something ugly is coming.

“What? It’s a big deal,” Loki complains when Thor asks him what’s the matter. “I don’t even half know how to feel about it.”

Volatile as he knows his brother is, this still isn’t the kind of reaction Thor would have expected. Maybe he’s just stupid, like Loki always teases, but he thinks this is good news and he’s- well, he’s disappointed that his brother isn’t happy.

“Isn’t it exactly what you always wanted, though,” Thor asks. “I thought you wanted to stay here, and I thought you-.” The more he thinks, the more Loki’s reaction makes him angry, too. “What was all that talk about losing the place and about Blue and the cats and the woodshop?” If all of that was just a play for sympathy, he doesn’t know what he will do.

Loki whirls to face him, brandishing the pitchfork. “How do you know about that,’ he snarls.

Thor takes a step back and smacks into the barn door. “You told me?”

“No,” Loki snaps, “I didn’t. I told _mom_ , and you weren’t even there.”

His brother is right, of course. Thor is caught out, but there’s no way he’s admitting it. “It doesn’t take a rocket sci-,” he starts, hotly. Loki’s face contorts into something wild and alien.

“Why,” his brother demands, “does everyone talk behind my back and scheme and lie?”

“Why are _you_ so paranoid,” Thor counters.

Loki breathes out in a low growl. “Maybe because people are always trying to hurt me,” he says. He throws the pitchfork into the straw, hard. The tines clank against something in the stall floor. “Here, _you_ finish up this shit if you’re so fucking excited.”

No! “Wait,” Thor exclaims as his brother storms past him and out into the yard. This isn’t how he pictured this discussion going at all, and it’s not anything he wants, either. “Loki!”

After a few too many seconds wasted standing there wondering what exactly had just happened, Thor makes his own way outside. Loki has already disappeared, but Thor knows better than to scream for his brother and risk attracting someone in the house’s attention. The last thing he wants is to involve their parents in a rousing game of _What Ails Loki_.

He finishes feeding the bigger critters and puts some fresh water down for the cats, all the while trying to figure out how- to think like his brother might think. When he has the barn put back together, he heads for the pond.

Sure enough, Loki is lying flat on his back on the hill leading up to the trees, shirt off and tucked under his head like a pillow and one arm thrown over his face. Thor can’t hear over the summer sounds but, by the rough gasping pull of Loki’s breathing, he’s crying.

Thor stops what he hopes is a respectful distance away and clears his throat. When Loki doesn’t respond he creeps closer and closer, until he’s finally able to squat down and wrap a hand around his brother’s pale, cool ankle. He braces for a struggle; when Loki neither fights back nor moves, Thor carefully settles down to rest cross-legged in the grass. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t want to fight with you.” His brother is probably just frightened. He feels like he ought to say something more- more useful, but the words simply don’t come. “I’m sorry,” he says, again. “Can I sit here with you?”

Loki rolls over onto his side, abruptly, leaving Thor to look at the jut of his shoulder blades and the knobby ridge of his spine. He doesn’t speak, though, and he doesn’t pull free of Thor’s grip.

It’s close enough to an invitation to stay put, so Thor does. He strokes Loki’s calf gently, careful to press firmly enough that his fingers don’t tickle… and then moves to his brother’s thigh and hip and the bony arch of Loki’s ribs. “Baby,” he asks, after his brother finally starts to unwind a little, “talk to me. Please. You’ll feel better.” It’s not unlikely _he_ by contrast will feel worse, but right now he’s willing to chance it.

“The whole thing is too much,” Loki whispers. “I can’t do it. I’m not ready.”

Okay, that’s not so bad, all things considered. “I’m pretty sure one expects you to be, not yet.” Thor points out. “We won’t get the place officially for years.” He gives Loki’s hip a gentle tug, trying to encourage his brother to roll back over. Loki rocks and tips but curls away again almost immediately. “You _know_ mom’s going to make us finish school and everything. And I’m here,” he points out. “I can help you. I want to.” He does. He wants this to be their place, their home, their lives.

Loki sighs. “What if you’re wrong? What if we can’t do it?” He twists to look up at Thor, his dark lashes clumped and wet with tears. “What if we screw everything up so badly it can’t be fixed?”

They’ve been through a lot already. Personally, Thor isn’t sure he believes there’s anything out there – besides death, maybe – that can’t be fixed. Not by the two of them, but by someone. On the other hand he’s starting to see that his brother can’t always be reasoned with, especially not when Loki is afraid. That’s been especially true since the whole adoption situation had come to light.

Their parents would probably tell him he’s growing up but, in truth, Thor just feels helpless. He leans forward and kisses Loki’s side, in the soft dip just above the hipbone. “Let’s deal with that when it happens, okay,” he asks his brother. “I think we can get through it.” He nuzzles Loki’s ribs and then kisses his brother’s side again. “Will you try, at least? For me? _With_ me?”

Loki wriggles. “Okay,” he says quietly. He sounds more like himself again. “I suppose. But only because you’re asking so nicely.”


	85. Chapter 85

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School takes some getting used to.

College is at once pretty much the same as and different in every way that matters from high school. Being commuter students automatically serves to distance Loki and Thor from campus life; when what seems like absolutely everyone else is collecting together to study or party or just lounge around watching TV, the two of them are scrambling to get home and feed the Bright Star menagerie.

Loki would be sorely tempted to use that as the excuse for why, yet again, he finds himself not fitting in and struggling to make friends... except for how his brother - who, sans driver's license, is on campus exactly the same amount of time each day as he is - draws people like iron filings to a lodestone. All of which would doubtless bother Loki more, though, if it weren't for how their fellow students seem collectively more open-minded than the kids they grew up with.

People here may still not label him _friendship material_ , but their reactions read more like awe and fear and less like condescension or derision. It’s better than it sounds. Loki is comfortable having to live with putting people off (while his brother puts them at ease), he is… just as long as they're quietly polite about it.

~

Thor and Loki share exactly zero classes their first semester. It's a fortuitous consequence of pursuing different programs of study; despite days spent arguing about it the two of them had simply not been able to come to agreement over whether or not common classes were okay. This way they don't have to… this way the whole thing is someone else's fault, and that _someone_ is both general and impersonal. Even if there’s blame worth assigning, which it isn’t all that clear there might be to start with, there really isn’t anyplace useful to assign it anyway.

Not that either one of them has much time to dwell on things of that nature, not once classes are underway.

They don’t have _any_ time, really. They’re both far, far too busy.

For starters, they actually have to study. It's a new experience for both of them, Loki who had always been smart enough to breeze through on zero effort and Thor who had spent the majority of his school career sailing along on the wings of football. Here, in contrast, they have no excuses and no crutches... and the competition is much fiercer than they’re used to

On top of that they’re both saddled with what Loki – who had never taken a textbook home in his life, before now - considers an obscene amount of homework, even after you count labs and studio time, and it’s the sort of homework that demands considerable attention _at home_. With all the animals to look after and Jerry to help out, the two of them barely have time for eating or sleeping. Most nights they roll into bed in a messy heap; most nights they're asleep before they can even get themselves halfway untangled.

Eventually – inevitably, when it comes to Thor, and even Loki has to admit that his might yet turn out to be a bit of an _ugly duckling_ story – they do both start to attract attention.

One thing they had agreed upon, right at the start and easily: they're brothers at school, not lovers. Even though the majority of the students come from out of town, this city (calling it a _metropolitan area_ gives it airs and makes it sound undeservedly important) is too small and many of the adjuncts work in local industry. It's not worth the risk.

Loki is openly gay at school; he's out from the start. But he tells the few guys drawn to him like butterflies to nectar that he's taken, and he doesn't bite when anyone presses for details.

Thor just tells everyone he's too busy with school to have any time left over for relationships.

Loki would probably find his brother’s lying – something Thor doesn’t do often, and at which he lacks both grace and skill – more amusing if it wasn't for how his brother’s words are so, so painfully close to true.

The football coach makes one last play for Thor, closely followed by three separate fraternities. Thor politely turns them all down with the same explanation he gives would-be suitors. It's a simple song, and its chorus is always the same: _no time, no time_.

Unlike Thor’s, Loki’s admirers take a more personal approach. He’s told he moves like a dancer, over and over, despite how he’s never tried so much as a single move in his life. He's offered the chance to pose nude for figure-drawing practice by a freckled, redheaded man who is so embarrassedly open about his admiration that Loki almost thinks it's the truth and not some cheesy pickup attempt. _Taken, taken_ is his go-to line when the attention feels too personal; when the intent is less clear he just smiles enigmatically and makes the first escape he can.

~

Overall, they can tell by just three weeks in that school is taking a pretty heavy toll. The two of them both struggle to eat and sleep enough. Thor is never quite as high-strung as Loki, which would work in his favor except that it means he needs both more rest and (paradoxically) more food than his brother.

Loki can't unwind and is basically living on cheap, shitty coffee and chocolate bars. He looks more and more worn down as their first semester progresses, to the point that Thor can't believe their mother hasn't said anything about the dark circles under his eyes and the way his clothes fall from his shoulders as though he's a cheap metal coat hanger. 

Rubbing Loki’s back doesn't work anymore, either, a good chunk of which is probably thanks to how Thor can't stay awake long enough to do a proper job of it most days.

They’re short-tempered and unpleasant and worn out, and it’s barely November. Thor really isn’t sure how they’re going to make it through four years of this intact, not if this sort of pressure continues.

He’s not sure he’s ever looked forward to Thanksgiving more.


	86. Chapter 86

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Loki chat.

Even when he’s expecting him – and this is one of those rare times, rare enough that Bruce was quick to agree to an early evening appointment on what had otherwise been shaping up to be a night off – Bruce is always a little startled by just how _beautiful_ Loki is. That’s the first thing that hits him tonight, too, when Loki first appears in his office doorway all pink-cheeked from the cold. It’s windy and the temperature is low enough that Bruce won’t be surprised if they get the season’s first snow later on tonight.

The next thing that hits him, before Loki even stops blowing on red, cupped-together hands long enough to say hello, is just how very exhausted the kid looks.

Loki’s hair is a mess from the wind, and his nose is as pink as his cheeks. He’s smiling, a little tentatively. His eyes are red-rimmed and puffy-lidded over big dark circles, and the lines of his worried frown are etched deep across his forehead.

“Hey,” Bruce says, pleasantly. This whole family is nice – smart, funny, caring, good to one another – and he doesn’t have to remind himself to be cordial to them. “I was surprised to hear from you today.” He was. Loki never comes in alone, and hasn’t since the very early sessions… back when Bruce had been charged with making sure whatever was going on between Loki and Thor wasn’t including, to put it bluntly, Thor taking advantage of Loki. He’s glad it hadn’t turned out to be about that. Again, _nice people_. “Come in, please. Sit wherever you’d like.” He spreads his hands, offering. “Make yourself at home.”

“Mm,” Loki hums. He pads silently into the office and shuts the door behind himself before gracefully unwinding (and unwinding, and unwinding) the long green-and-black scarf wrapped around his neck. The fabric catches his hair and pulls it back. A ring of purplish-green, healing bruises – still unmistakably teeth, even now - stands out against the pale skin just below his jaw. It’s evidently not _relationship problems_ that have brought him here, then.

“So,” Bruce tries again as Loki peels off his fleece and perches a bit self-consciously on edge of the sofa. “How can I help you?”

Loki’s eyes flick up. He looks around the room, at everything but Bruce’s face. “Mom said I should come talk to you,” he admits. “I’m under a lot of pressure, with school and everything, and it’s messing up my sleep.” Now that he’s gotten started, Bruce finds just nodding encouragingly is enough to him keep going. “Worse than that, though, is- this sounds stupid- I feel like I’m going to puke all the time. Not _all_ the time,” he corrects himself with a wry little smirk as Bruce smiles and toes the trashcan towards him. “And I haven’t actually done it. I just- I feel trapped in my classes. In between I sometimes just hole up in the bathroom for a couple of hours.” He makes actual eye contact and then blushes. “There’s a big counter, I mean. It’s not like it sounds. I sit up there and do my homework. I’m not _in a stall_.”

“But you feel safer in easy running distance,” Bruce says. From what both Frigga and Odin have said, Loki’s plate is very full. The kid does have an awful lot to worry about, especially given how he seems to – and always has, from what Bruce has heard – take things very seriously. There aren’t many _in betweens_ in this one’s world.

“Right.” Loki nods. He relaxes a little, his body responding unconsciously to the relief of being understood. “When I was in first grade, maybe second, one of my classmates hurled all over his desk. In front of the whole class. I never want to be that person.” He shudders. “I’d rather die.”

Bruce lets that go, for now, and steers the conversation in a slightly different, albeit related, direction: “Are you eating okay?” Frigga has mentioned several times that Loki tends to stop eating when he’s upset, and the kid does look a little more sharp-edged and drawn – perhaps a bit thinner; it’s hard to tell in baggy, wintery layers – than he had the last time he’d been in. Either way, it’s useful to hear what Loki himself is thinking.

Loki shrugs. He looks away again and chews on his lip. Despite how different the two of them may look, Loki reminds Bruce a great deal of Frigga. “I can’t eat while I’m there,” Loki says. “At school, I mean. I feel too sick. But I eat at home, and sometimes I eat with Mrs. Wallace.” He scowls. “I hardly have any time to hang out with her anymore. I hate school, you know? I just hate it. I wish I didn’t have to go,” Loki adds, with quite a bit of force. “It’s awful.”

“What’s the driving force behind your being there at all,” Bruce asks Loki. He’s heard both Frigga’s and Odin’s thoughts on the subject a number of times now but he’d like to get Loki’s own version before they discuss it together.

“I don’t want to disappoint everyone,” Loki admits, sadly, after a long silence. “I said I would do it. I will. It’s just- Thor- oh, fuck, I don’t know.”

“It’s okay to have a lot of mixed feelings about all of this,” Bruce reminds him. “And you don’t have to act on all of them.”

When Loki doesn’t answer, Bruce asks him about things with Thor.

The kid beams. For the first time since he walked in the door, Loki’s smile looks wholly genuine. “Thor is- Thor’s good. Things with Thor are good. If that could just be my whole life I would be nothing but happy.” Loki flops back against the sofa cushions, arms and legs every which way. He looks ten years old like this, and Bruce struggles not to laugh. “I know everyone thinks relationships like the one we have are wrong,” Loki says. He sighs. “And believe me, I’ve thought about it… but I- I don’ see how that can be true. We’re everything to one another.”

Of course that’s not always a good thing, regardless of Loki’s opinion on it, and Bruce briefly considers pursing the whole topic a little further. The look on he kid’s face, though, is happy and full of joy. Hopeful. Free of doubt.

It’s not worth it. There’s probably nothing beneficial in picking things apart, not today, so Bruce- doesn’t. “I’m glad to hear that,” he says, simply, focusing instead on how it’s nice that the two of them both have someone to turn to. “And how are is Mrs. Wallace?” Again, he knows the answer – one answer – to his question before he asks it. Frigga has come to him several times to talk about their dying neighbor and about the possible implications of leaving one or both boys the neighboring farm.

Loki sighs, again. “I wish she could live forever,” he says, “even if that means we have to stay with mom and dad. But I know it’s not going to happen, no matter how much Thor pretends it will. She’s going to die, and it’s going to really fuck me up… and there’s nothing,” he adds as his fingers dig into the cushions and his eyes fill with tears, “nothing I can do about it. Nothing anyone can.”

_It’s a good thing_ , Bruce thinks, _this one has Thor and his parents to love him_.


	87. Chapter 87

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor worries too.

Thor traces a finger up and down the swell of Loki's calf, ankle to knee to ankle and back again. He's following the curve of the muscle with enough pressure that his brother isn't twitching and wriggling, but it's still more like drawing - of the art sort - than massage. Loki has always had lovely legs; as they've both gotten older and stronger and he himself has gotten kind of blocky, his brother's legs have only gotten that much nicer. He leans forward to kiss the sole of Loki foot, high up under the arch. "So," he asks, but can’t quite go on. He’s a wuss; he actually has to take a deep breath before continuing. This is one of those questions you really only want to ask if you already know the answer. He's not sure he does. Want, or know, that is.

Loki's head appears over the point of a kneecap. "Mm?"

"So," Thor tries again as soon as his brother flops back down, starting off a little more briskly this time to keep himself from stalling. "Did Dr. Banner tell you we should break this off?" And then despite everything he’s planned about _taking this like a man_ he physically cringes, squeezing his eyes tight shut and bracing to have to fight not to cry.

" _What_?" Loki moves so fast the bed jiggles, the question almost a squawk. "Is _that_ what you've been worrying about?" Tears prickle behind Thor's closed lids, despite his very, very best efforts. He jerks his head. "No, silly," Loki tells him, thunking one shin gently against his shoulder. "He's fine with it. He seemed happy when I said things were going well between us. Honest," his brother insists, curling up off the mattress to take Thor's face in both hands and plant a soft kiss on his forehead. "He just gave me some things to try, to help me with better time management." Loki kisses him again, this time steering his face up enough that their lips brush together. "And he thinks I need to carve out a few hours a week to do something that's just for me. No no no, nothing bad," he hurries to say as Thor tries to twist away. "He just wants me to go back to my flute, say, or try martial arts or dance. Or yoga." Loki laughs. "Dr. Banner seems awfully sold on yoga."

Thor blinks. His brother is still _right there_. The broader implication - that even as both big brother _and_ partner he can't be enough for Loki - does sting but he knows (intellectually, at least) that it's not about that at all. It's not about him. He makes himself smile and nods more enthusiastically. "That sounds fun," he says, trying not to sound too stiff or forced. "What are you thinking?"

"Right now?" Loki kisses him a third time, full on the mouth and not gently.

Thor pushes his brother away, just a little. "About what Dr. Banner told you," he corrects as Loki's nose crinkles. "What are you thinking of doing?"

"Hmm," his brother hums. "I have to see what's available at school, and when. I don't want to cut into our evenings," Loki explains when Thor isn't quick enough to hide a frown. "And he thinks it's important that I equate something positive with being there. See, Mr. Worry Wart," his brother kids. "It really is nothing."

"Did he have any suggestions for me," Thor asks, hopefully. It’s worth trying. He pushes Loki down flat and goes back to tracing a calf again. The little hairs - despite the thick, dark mane his brother's body hair is still surprisingly soft and fine - make his fingertip tingle.

"Oh no no," Loki chides, propping himself up on his elbows and letting his feet slide along the bed until his legs are out flat. "If _you_ need fixing, you have to go see him yourself. You don't get to push that off on me. Nice try, though."

Thor snorts. He pulls Loki's foot back into reach and licks the entire underside of the arch in one broad, wet swipe. "I think I'd rather do this instead," he purrs against his brother's instep. "How 'bout you?" He licks again, with a pointy tongue this time.

"Ngh," Loki rasps. Goosebumps stand all over his brother's pale skin as Loki sinks into the bedding. " _Ohhhh- yes, please_."

~

When it comes to the performing arts, it turns out that the next set of beginner classes (even the recreational ones; Loki’s certainly not interested in a fine arts degree or a dancing career) won’t start up until summer term and right now neither he nor Thor has concrete plans – one way or the other - about taking summer classes. Loki asks around and finds that one of the music professors is willing to give private flute lessons, though. Money talks; they're quickly able to settle on a mutually convenient free period.

Instead of holing up in the bathroom between his morning and afternoon classes, he’ll play and see if that helps him feel better. If nothing else, it won’t _look_ so weird.

~

"I'll try it for the next few months," he tells Frigga the weekend before Thanksgiving, "and see how it goes. It won't be cheap, though. Sorry!"

"For what," she exclaims. "You've a gifted flutist and I know I speak for the whole family when I say we all miss your playing. I'm excited. Oh, and-."

"Stop," he insists, holding up a hand as she tries to go on. "If you say _you can't put a price on happiness_ I will gag, I promise you. Just- don’t. Don’t try me."

"Fine," she huffs, mock-irritated. A devious little smile still plays around the corners of her mouth. "We can't have _that_. But it _is_ true... you can't, you know." She ducks as he play-lunges at her. They both end up laughing.

~

In the most ominous news he's heard all year, Loki's certain, Mrs. Wallace's entire family - her daughter and grandson, her son and _some girl who might be his girlfriend this week_ , to quote - will be in town for Thanksgiving. He's heard it from her, directly ("they insisted," she'd told him conspiratorially, "and I couldn't really tell them I'd rather eat with my neighbors"), and again just a few minutes ago from Jerry.

It's caught him like a knee in the gut both times.

The aide had made all the right sympathetic noises when Loki had opted to greet said news with an embarrassingly childish mini-tantrum. His mother, though, is invariably more practical. "I know you're disappointed, and I can guess at what's really bothering you most. We're right here, though; we'll just have our own party with Mrs. Wallace after you and your brother are done with finals."

He's grateful she's opted not to point out the obvious; that the Wallace children, who rarely show up individually and who haven't been here together since he and Thor were barely out of diapers, know this will be their mother's last Thanksgiving. He ultimately can't stop _himself_ from going there, though; the tears well up and spill over.

"Oh, sweetie," Frigga says softly as she pulls him close. He's tall enough to rest his chin on her head; he doesn't, not quite. She gives him a warm hug anyway.

"What if she dies before then," he whispers into his mother's hair. The first sob that sneaks out might almost have passed for a hiccup, if it wasn't for the next one and the one after that.

"I really don't think she will," Frigga assures him, just loud enough to carry over his crying. She rubs a warm hand slowly up and down his back. "But if she does, I promise: we'll find a way through it."


	88. Chapter 88

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Tis the season.

Thanksgiving doesn’t go as badly as any of them had expected. The Wallace clan stops over the evening before, unannounced, with a few bottles of California wine for Frigga and Odin and big, heartfelt thanks for Thor and Loki. There are hugs all ‘round and lots of “if it weren’t for the two of you mom could never have stayed in her home this long.”

It’s embarrassing, really, in a good way.

“You have no idea what this means to all of us,” Mrs. Wallace’s son tells Thor as they’re leaving. His scarf whips in the wind and his hands are shoved deep in his pockets. “Have a happy Thanksgiving.”

They do, too. Loki and Frigga cook together all day, which they haven’t had the chance to do since… forever. They start in as soon as the boys are back from the barn, with pies – two to eat themselves, two to take next door for the Wallaces (because Loki _knows_ Jerry can’t make pie, and he simply can’t handle the idea of anyone going without good pie on such a pie-centric holiday) – and then put the turkey in to roast. Later on, an hour or so before mealtime, the sides join the bird in the oven. Everyone agrees that the house smells fantastic. Frigga has pumpkin smeared all down the front of her apron and Loki is a sweaty, curly-haired mess but they’re grinning ear-to-ear and clearly loving every second of it.

Odin offers to take the finished pies, which are lovely and golden, next door but Thor and Loki insist that they have to go feed the animals anyway. He’s reasonably certain they actually just don’t want to miss out on stopping over, so he doesn’t argue. It’s the holiday; _someone_ has to stay home and watch football.

He doesn’t. He just sits in his office and feels a little bit bad about things.

If Frigga knows, she doesn’t let on.

“They were going to have to eat _store-bought_ pies,” Loki exclaims as the two of them burst back into the kitchen. They toe off their boots and take turns helping one another out of their coveralls. “Can you believe it? And not even anything decent. They actually had one of those gross apple things with the mushy crumb topping!”

His son sounds so genuinely horrified that Odin is careful not to laugh. “It’s a good thing you and your mom like to bake, then,” he calls after the twins as they hurry upstairs to change for supper. He can hear Loki still muttering about _store-bought pies_.

Neither of them answers.

They all make an effort to stay upbeat and to enjoy their meal together. As a family they have a lot to be thankful for, and they know it.

~

The last push towards the end of the semester takes a lot out of both Thor and Loki. The boys are gone so much – sometimes the two of them even have to drive all the way from campus to Bright Star to feed everyone and then turn around and go right back to school for the evening – as they prepare for finals that Frigga and Odin joke about how it’s like having no kids at all.

The idea ultimately isn’t particularly funny, though, and they stop mentioning it right about the time they both realize neither one of them is laughing.

~

The day following their last exams, Thor sits in a stupor in front of the TV for hours and his brother sleeps until dinnertime. “Who did the stall this morning,” Loki asks frantically after waking to find it dark. Again. “Please tell me someone did, and they’re not just wallowing in their own cr-.”

“Shh,” Frigga hushes him. She’d come in to make sure he was okay, under guise of picking up some laundry. “Your father drove Thor over there. He claims he helped. Knowing Odin, though, I bet he mostly _supervised_.”

Loki groans. “ _Why_ didn’t anyone wake me up,” he asks. “I would have done it.” He still has huge circles under his eyes, and a wicked case of bedhead, but he sounds quite a bit more like himself than he had when he’d been struggling to even stay awake through last night’s dinner.

“Sweetie, you just slept for twenty-one hours,” Frigga points out. “I think it’s better this way, somehow.”

He fights to disentangle himself from the nest of blankets. “I’m going over there now,” he insists. “They _need_ me.”

“They need you _well_ ,” Frigga reminds him. She sighs. Her sons are going to be here full-time for three weeks and she doesn’t want to start things off on a sour note. “Okay. Go ahead, but don’t overdo it.”

“Do I ever?” He grins at her frown and then rubs his eyes. “Sorry, mom. I am. I’ll be fine.”

~

Their sons take a few days to unwind before setting up what the whole family has taken to calling _Thanksgiving II_ , which of course really makes it more like _Thanksmas_. Or _Christmasgiving_. Loki goes over the menu with Mrs. Wallace and they decide on another turkey, which isn’t what Odin had hoped (and he says so). He has his heart set on a standing rib roast; Frigga and Loki both promise they’ll do one for him the following week instead. He gives in at that point, because they’re bound to be good for it. That, and if this is their last holiday season with Mrs. Wallace – he sincerely hopes it won’t be, but things like that just aren’t within his control and he knows the odds are against him – Odin wants to be sure it’s all about what _she_ will enjoy.

“Besides,” Frigga reminds him, which he deserves for keeping his thoughts to himself, “we can do prime rib any old time.”

_It’s better when you and Loki cook it together_ , he thinks but doesn’t say. They’re doing it next week, after all, and he just needs to get over it. “I know,” he agrees. “We’ll do it for New Year’s or something.”

~

It’s a great little party. Frigga and Loki cook at home while Odin helps Thor and Jerry get the dining room over at Bright Star ready. At mealtime they re-divide and conquer; the boys run out to the barn to feed Jonah and Blue – the cats will get turkey later – while Odin and Frigga set out all the food. Jerry helps Mrs. Wallace into her chair and wheels her into the room just as they’re all sitting down. “He insists it’s to keep me from wearing myself out and falling asleep while we’re eating,” she tells them. “But I’m actually feeling pretty good these days.”

Odin knows that isn’t really true. Jerry’s told him she needs help getting around most of the time now. But _that’s_ not what Thor and Loki need to hear, not today, and Odin wants to keep things upbeat. He smiles brightly and says “that’s wonderful!”

Frigga nicely doesn’t bother kicking him under the table.

Everyone has a little wine, even Mrs. Wallace herself (“just this once,” Jerry admonishes, when she argues that they’re all going to die of something, “and don’t think you’re going to be making a habit of it”) and – miracle of miracles -Jerry.

“You can stay over at our place,” Thor volunteers as he pours the aide a second glass. “Right, mom?”

Jerry laughs. “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” he protests. “I’ll just stay here.”

“And have the night aide catch you,” Loki argues. “No. Come over. We can have a party.”

“You can stay in one of our guestrooms,” Frigga assures him. “And I’ll keep these two under control. Really,” she says, “you’re welcome.”

Odin nods. Jerry’s pretty much family.

Mrs. Wallace clears her throat. They all turn to look at her. “Well, now that _that’s_ settled,” she tells them, “one of you needs to get me more stuffing. I’m starving over here.”


	89. Chapter 89

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Year's is an end, and a beginning.

They opt not to make a fuss about Christmas, largely – not that they discuss it amongst themselves, but somehow they collectively _just know_ \- because it’s bound to be too much for Mrs. Wallace so soon after Thanksgiving II. They don’t want to have a big thing without her, but they don’t want to invite her and find out she’s not up to joining them either. Most of all, they don’t want her to feel obligated… and then run the risk of her overdoing it and ending up sick afterwards. Not at this time of year, where every little thing threatens to turn into pneumonia.

Everyone knows how _that_ pans out.

Instead they share a quiet, plain dinner – well, except for the fancy little Yule-themed petits fours Loki and Frigga spend the entirety of Christmas Eve making – and then while away the evening curled up in neat piles reading their Christmas presents. Odin takes the big chair; he’s wrapped in a soft wool fleece blanket and graced with two cats from next door no one realized had been invited. Frigga settles down at one end of the sofa, where there’s plenty of room to spread her new photographic history of Iceland along the arm. Loki and Thor, chilly and pink around the edges from (taking Mrs. Wallace and Jerry some petits fours and) feeding the barn residents, snuggle together like baby animals at the sofa’s far end.

Frigga tucks her cold toes under Thor’s thigh. Loki catches her at it; he looks up with sleepy, half-lidded eyes and smiles. “He’s so warm, isn’t he,” he mouths at his mother.

In response Thor pulls Loki closer and closer, until their mouths slide together. Frigga prods him with her toe. He waves a hand at her, but doesn’t stop kissing (and kissing, and kissing, until it’s starting to look like the two of them have forgotten their parents are even in the house with them) his brother. “Guys,” Odin says at last, “get a room.”

They pull apart, pink-faced and laughing. “Sorry,” Thor says. “We’ll just, uh, go back to our reading.”

~

Loki rolls out of bed while it’s still dark on New Year’s Eve. They’ve promised Odin prime rib – Frigga’d even made a special trip to the big liquor store all the way down by school yesterday, when the local shops hadn’t been able to provide a decent Madeira – and by all that is holy Loki intends to make sure his father gets it.

It’s delicious. Everyone says so.

Thor and Loki take wrapped plates next door; one each for Mrs. Wallace and for Jerry, plus a small plate of meat scraps for the very excited cats. The two of them make small talk and sing a truly terrifying rendition of Auld Lang Syne and pretend very hard not to notice that Mrs. Wallace seems a little puzzled to see them there.

It’s almost like she no longer knows them.

~

The night before classes start again Loki cries.

At first Thor thinks it’s just normal jitters; it’s been a nice winter break, all told, and of the two of them Loki has often been the one to wear his heart most prominently on his sleeve. After two straight hours of it, though, when Loki is so dehydrated that the tears are long gone and it’s all just noise and thrashing about… Thor gets a little scared.

Okay, maybe it’s more like a lot scared.

“If you can’t stop soon I’m going to get mom,” he warns, which paradoxically makes his brother cry all the harder. Thor slides into bed and wraps his arms around Loki, trying for comforting but not restricting. “Please, baby,” he says into his brother’s damp curls. “You’re scaring me. We need to get some water in you.”

“Don’t tell mom,” Loki rasps. His eyes are so puffy and swollen that it looks like something has stung him. “I’ll drink. I’ll do anything. Just don’t tell her.” He wipes his face on the back of his hand as Thor reluctantly lets go and sits up again. “Promise.”

Thor sighs. “I just want you to be okay,” he tells his shaking brother. “Yeah, sure. I promise.”

In return Loki makes a visible effort to pull himself together. “I’m fine,” he says, but it’s so obviously a lie that in any other circumstances Thor would laugh like crazy. “Go ahead. Get me some water. Really,” he insists. “A nice big glass, thank you.”

All the way down to the kitchen and back upstairs Thor’s heart pounds in his chest and ears like a drum. He hurries back to the bedroom so fast that he sloshes water all over the carpet in the hallway. Loki’s just sitting up in bed, though, reclining against the pillows and wiping his nose with a ratty blue tissue. “See,” his brother says. “Fine.”

It takes maybe two minutes for Loki to polish off the entire plastic tumbler’s worth of water (the part of it, at least, that isn’t all over the hallway). Thor gets a (neater) refill from the bathroom sink; his brother downs that one as well. “Stop,” Loki finally says when Thor gets up to get another refill. “I need to get at least a little sleep. If I keep this up, I’ll spend the whole night peeing.”

Despite himself Thor snickers. “We can’t have _that_ ,” he teases, glad for a break in the tension, “can we?”

Loki laughs, too. Something warm and sweet passes between them. Thor leans in close to kiss his brother. “Suffocating,” Loki reminds him after a few seconds. “I can’t use my nose at all, you know?”

Thor spends the next hour kissing his brother’s neck and collarbones instead, and then a few minutes gently taking care of the situation that’s created. “You stay put,” he tells Loki afterwards as his brother makes a half-hearted attempt to get out of bed. “I’ll get it.”

This time, when he makes his way to the kitchen for one of Frigga’s frozen _puffy eyes_ masks – the ones she keeps in the freezer and no one ever dares to mention – and then back to the bathroom for a warm, moist washcloth, Thor thinks that (as long as he doesn’t actually think at all) he might feel very slightly better.

He holds Loki so, so close until his brother’s breathing evens out into quiet, open-mouthed snores… and then for a good hour longer.

~

When Loki drives the two of them over to Bright Star and then to school the next morning, radio blaring and defroster on high, his still-puffy face is the only sign that anything ever happened.

~

“Are you going to be okay today,” Thor asks his brother as they walk in from the parking lot. After a few weeks spent together at home, where the two of them are outer than out and don’t have to keep anything hidden, not being able to take Loki’s hand as they walk – as they talk about something huge and personal - physically _pains_ him.

Loki looks away. “Of course. It’s just classes, Thor. Why wouldn’t I be?”


	90. Chapter 90

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki steals some alone time with Mrs. Wallace.

It takes a little doing but Loki finally manages to sneak away from their house while Thor is busy talking with Odin. Even though the snow isn’t really all that deep – which is typical here; in early January the worst is inevitably yet to come – there’s still more than enough to work its cold, wet way inside the tops of his boots as he bounds across the field. He loses his footing more than once, actually falling to his knees one time and barely breaking a faceplant with his hands (and _that’s_ going to leave some spectacular bruises) another. By the time he makes it to Mrs. Wallace’s house he is an unpleasant mix of frozen and scraped and panting and sweaty.

There isn’t much time. He needs to make all he can of it.

~

“Loki,” Jerry exclaims when he pops up – dripping and flushed, if the little gilt-framed mirror over the dry sink in the hallway is any indication – in the kitchen. “I wasn’t expecting you. It’s the middle of the day, I mean,” the aide adds as Loki belatedly tries to apologize. “Of course you’re always welcome.”

“I have a key,” Loki says, like that somehow explains everything. He holds it out. The thing is dull and tarnished against the bruised red skin of his hand.

“I know,” Jerry says, dryly. “Mrs. Wallace had me give it to you, remember?”

Loki takes a deep breath. He’s here to confess, and he needs to get this done before Thor figures out where he’s gone and follows him. “Is- is she having a good day today,” he asks quickly. She still does, far more often than not, but the _bad days_ really only started a couple of weeks back and that in itself makes him awfully nervous.

“Mm,” Jerry hums. He nods. “She seems to be right on top of things today. Go ahead up,” he offers, gesturing towards the stairs. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.”

~

“Are you playing hooky,” Mrs. Wallace admonishes as he (takes another deep breath, and then) pokes his head in her bedroom. Her pillows dwarf her. She looks tired and frail, but her eyes are clear and he’s thankful to find she’s looking _at_ him.

“No,” he assures her, even though he probably _is_ playing hooky from _chores_ … and _Thor_ , in a way. “It’s Saturday. I don’t have classes.”

“The sun is shining,” she tells him, inclining her head towards the window. “In the winter. You should be out there enjoying it. Don’t waste your precious weekend inside talking to this old lady. It may not be-.”

“Look,” he says, cutting her off even though he knows it’s rude; he just can’t stand small talk and meaningless pleasantries today. His tolerance for that sort of thing is way down recently. “I want to talk to you while you- um-.” He just can’t.

“While I know what’s going on,” she finishes. He winces. “While I remember who you are. You don’t have to dance around it.”

He frowns at her. Much as he doesn’t want to cry, he hadn’t really thought about how she might actually be aware of what’s been happening. Now that he can’t _not_ , the very idea is both weird and shockingly painful.

“Seriously,” she goes on. “My doctors have warned me all along that this was coming, and Jerry keeps me posted. We laugh about it.” She shrugs. “What else can we do?”

“I can’t,” he admits.

“You’re young,” she reminds him. “You’ll feel differently as time goes by. Now come sit here beside me and tell me what’s going on.”

Loki sits on the edge of the bed very, very gingerly, trying his best not to shift the mattress any more than he absolutely has to. For a minute or two they both stare at his fingers as he worries the blanket’s frayed satin edging. “Talk,” she (gently) orders eventually. “You’re making _me_ nervous.”

He shuts his eyes. The worn fabric is soft and silky under his hands. “What if it’s just too much,” he asks. “What if I just can’t do it?”

“School,” she asks.

“This place,” he corrects her. A hot tear runs down the side of his face; he blinks it away, embarrassed. “What if I just can’t take care of a house after all?” _What if I fuck up and burn it down or let it fall in or forget to feed the animals and everyone dies_ , he thinks to himself. “I don’t want to disappoint you. Not after everything you’ve done for me.”

She pats his arm, slowly. “Oh, Loki. Your parents will help, and Thor. But if it _is_ too much, your family can sell it.” Her fingers are cold, and he lays his own hand over hers in an attempt – fruitless, probably, since his fingers haven’t thawed completely - to warm them for her. “Do I hope you can stay here? Of course,” she says. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. But more than anything I want you and your brother to be happy. Whatever that means,” she stresses, punctuating her words with a shake of a finger. “You won’t disappoint me.”

“I don’t want you to die,” he blurts out, stupidly.

“Honey,” she says quietly, “I don’t want to either. But that’s how things go sometimes. And maybe it’s time. You’ve been a godsend. You and your brother both. Promise me you’ll always remember that. Always.”

“Uh huh.” Loki wipes his face with the arm Mrs. Wallace isn’t holding. Privately, he has to wonder about any god that might see fit to send _him_ as its ambassador. “I promise,” thought, he assures her when she jostles him a little. “I do. I just feel like a failure. An imposter. I feel like you’re going to snap out of- of this before you die or whatever and be horrified that you chose to give me anything. Because how could I ever live up to-.”

“ _Loki_.” Her voice is sharp.

“Huh?” As long as his mouth is open, he can’t seem to stop babbling.

“Please,” she says. “Do us both a big favor?”

He makes a little scrunchy face. She doesn’t laugh. “Okay,” he says, flatly. “I’ll try.”

“Take on the world one step at a time. Trust me,” she assures him. “You’ll get there.”

“And if I don’t?”

She smiles and pats his hand once more. “Well, then you can come sit on my grave and scream at me. Anytime you want.”

~

“Have you seen my brother?” Thor’s voice booms up the stairs. Loki winces.

“I’m up here,” he calls down, to spare Jerry the discomfort of choosing between tattling and lying. “I’ll be down in a minute. Mrs. Wallace and I were just talking.”


	91. Chapter 91

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...in sickness and in health.

They're both singing along with the radio, nice and loud. Thor is bouncing around in the passenger seat and using the dashboard as a drum kit. Loki doesn't even realize his phone is ringing until it's about to go to voicemail. "It's mom," he tells Thor after a quick glance at the screen. He shoves the thing at his brother. "Quick! Put her on speaker."

"SORRY," Thor yells over the music as Loki frantically slaps at the radio. "Loki's driving. We were singing," he adds, a little sheepish-sounding, at something approaching normal speaking volume. "Anyway, hi. What's up? You're on speaker," he warns their mother, smiling across the car at Loki.

"Hi," Frigga says. Even over the phone they can hear her voice is strained. Loki’s heart starts to pound. "Listen- where are you?"

"About halfway home from school," Loki says to the windshield. She never calls them at school. Never. And even when she texts it’s about something stupid, like picking up milk. Nothing stressful, ever. All his life, she’s saved those conversations until they’re all face-to-face. His heart keeps on hammering, faster and faster, until it feels like it’s going to leap out of his chest. "Why? What's wrong?"

There's what feels like a very, very long pause. Through the phone Loki can hear his father talking in the background, but Odin is too far from Frigga to be anything much this side of unintelligible. “I’ll tell him,” Frigga says, maybe to Odin. "Loki, stop by the house before you go next door. And make sure you bring your brother.”

Loki shoots a quick look at Thor, who isn’t smiling anymore. His brother’s eyes are big and scared-looking. His own stomach flip-flops.

"Loki? Are you still there," Frigga asks.

He swallows. "Yeah, mom. We'll be home in a few minutes."

~

"Fuck," Thor huffs after ending the call. "Fuck fuck."

"Don't," Loki pleads. He’s drowning; he can feel the ugly falling sensation of a panic attack setting in. His whole body is trembling, in awful waves. _Stop_ , he orders himself. _You're fine. This isn’t real. Just drive_.

It doesn't work. He has to pull over, and for several long moments he's positive he's going to hurl.

In the end, he doesn't.

He can’t breathe, though. His whole body is in knots.

Thor rubs Loki’s back as he hunches over the wheel, gasping for breath. "Are you okay to drive?"

Loki clears his throat and wipes his face on his sweater sleeve. "It's not like _you're_ going to," he snaps, which isn’t fair. "Sorry."

Thor leans across the console to kiss his temple. "No apology. I'm just worried."

"Yeah," Loki whispers. "Me too."

~

They leave the car sloppily parked right in the middle of the driveway and hurry up to the back door. Thor takes one last scared look at Loki, breath fogging the icy air between them, and then pushes the door open. "Hello?"

Frigga stands by the counter. She's still in the clothes she’d worn to work, and everything about her broadcasts tension. "Did something happen to Mrs. Wallace," Loki asks quickly so Thor won't- have to. Or, more to the point, won’t- won't say something worse.

"She needed to go to the hospital," Frigga tells them. "Jerry went with her. I told him to call us if he needs a ride later on."

"But she's not-," Thor starts. Loki elbows his brother. Saying it will only make it true.

"Her doctor thinks it might be pneumonia." Frigga says. Her face is somber. "They're running some tests. I'm sure Jerry will keep us posted."

Loki's no idiot. He knows _pneumonia_ is right up there with _broken hip_ when it comes to old people and dying. He shoves his hands deep in his pockets so his mother can't see how they're shaking. "What about Blue," he asks, "and Jonah?"

"You two can still go feed everyone," Odin says, from the doorway. "Or I can do it. We just didn't want you to get over there and find the place abandoned."

Loki flashes briefly back to finding his father collapsed in the living room. He shudders. "We can do it," he assures his parents. Thor hums in agreement. "Should we leave the cat door open, do you think?"

His brother squints out the window at the thermometer. "It's cold, right,” Loki prompts.

"Sure," Frigga chimes in. "On a night like this I doubt anyone's going to be out wreaking havoc anyway."

~

The two of them walk over to Bright Star, to buy themselves a little more time alone in their fantasy bubble.

The old farmhouse looks weird without any lights on. Lonely. Wrong. Loki hears his brother's breath catch. "We'll put the yard lights on when we get over there," he promises. "Then it won't look so- so empty."

~

With the big mercury vapor lights on it’s better, but worse. Now that the yard’s lit up they can see there's- there’s more to the story. Big dual tire tracks run up the driveway and out onto the lawn, past the cars. There are footprints everywhere, with narrow tracks between them, where someone - several someones, from the looks of it- wrestled the ambulance cot back and forth through the snow. Inside the kitchen there are a few half-dried puddles. The throw-rugs are pushed aside, and there are bits of paper and plastic - thick packaging, paper circles with clear, domed plastic centers, a small cardboard box that reads "macro administration set” - strewn across the table. Some of the mess spills over and down onto the floor.

They silently pick everything up and throw it away. Thor wipes up the melted snow while Loki gets cat food out of the refrigerator. He washes the fork and sets it in the dish rack, alongside what must have been Mrs. Wallace's lunch dishes.

It’s a weird, weird feeling.

"This sucks," Loki tells his brother when he can no longer stand the loud, loud quiet. "I wanted to say goodbye." He should probably be crying, but what he feels instead is- is irrationally angry. Furious.

"Don't talk like that," Thor says. His hands come up in supplication as Loki whirls around to snarl at him. "We'll go see her in the hospital, as soon as we're allowed to. Baby?”

“Leave me alone,” Loki growls. There’s no space inside him for Thor, not right now. “I’m serious,” he says, backing across the kitchen. “Don’t even try to-.”

“Stop,” Thor demands, voice ringing out. “We’re not doing this, not now. Come out to the barn with me. I’m serious too,” he insists when Loki stands paralyzed. He takes two halting steps closer, one hand reaching for Loki’s. “Please, brother. I need you.”


	92. Chapter 92

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. You knew this was coming.
> 
> No one lives forever. Everyone grieves on his/her own schedule, too.

It’s a bitter cold finale to an already cold week, so frigid and dry that the air actually hurts to breathe. Every bit of fabric or metal sparks and snaps, full of static electricity. Loki’s lips are chapped; Thor’s hands are cracking. The snow crunches and squeaks underfoot the way only January-cold-snap snow can.

More than anything it’s miserable, especially with a barnful of hungry beasts living just out of comfortable winter sprinting distance.

It’s painful. Which, in the end, is fitting.

~

As it turns out both Loki and Thor are right.

~

Loki skips his flute lesson and the two of them drive to the hospital in the midday break between classes. Mrs. Wallace is only allowed one visitor at a time; Loki calls the unit nurses’ station from the wall phone in the hallway and offers to relieve Jerry – so the aide, who’s probably better termed a _close friend_ at this point anyway, can head out in search of something edible for lunch – as his brother settles into one of the worn plastic chairs that lines the small, equally worn waiting room. “I won’t take up our whole break,” he tells his brother once he’s cleared to go into her room. “I promise.”

Thor smiles up at him. “Don’t worry,” his brother says. “I trust you.”

~

Mrs. Wallace knows who Loki is. Her whole face brightens as she spots him. It’s a real struggle to look past how bad things clearly are – the bed is ringed with IV poles and monitors and collection bags, and her skin is so pale and waxy-looking that she could almost be dead already – but Loki steels himself and manages to smile back. “It’s really good to see you,” he tells her.

Nothing else he can think of to say is appropriate.

“I’m glad- you were able- to get here,” she whispers between ragged breaths. He finds himself holding his breath as she coughs. “I wasn’t sure- how long- I could wait.”

Loki nods, blinking back tears. “Of course I came,” he says softly. “I couldn’t let you- um, leave… not without saying goodbye. Thor’s here too,” he tells her. It’s only fair. She isn’t _his_. Not really.

“You’re a good- boy. A good _man_ ,” she tells him. “I love you.”

He takes one of her hands in his. Her fingers are freezing, even in the warmth of her room.

“I love you too,” he chokes out, just before the tears win.

There’s not much to say after that. Loki pats her hand and snuffles. Mrs. Wallace smiles at him and tells him haltingly that he doesn’t need to cry.

~

It’s only a few minutes before he can tell he’s wearing her out just by being there. He badly, badly wants to say “I’ll see you tomorrow” but he can’t get it out. In the end he gives up. “Don’t nap just yet,” he tells her. “I’ll get Thor.”

Loki doesn’t stop at the nurses’ station and he doesn’t stop at the phone. By the time he gets to the waiting area, which is thankfully empty except for his brother, he’s crying so hard he can barely talk. “Go,” he rasps when Thor tries to comfort him. “Really. Just go.”

Thor frowns. Loki squints at his brother and tries a third time. “Go, please. If you don’t you’ll- you’ll be sorry.”

“You’ll be here when I get back?” Thor hovers awkwardly in the doorway, picking at a bit of peeling wallpaper.

Loki nods.

~

For a terrifying moment Thor thinks he’s too late, but then Mrs. Wallace breathes. He stretches past all of the gizmos that surround the articulating bed and kisses her on the forehead, softly.

She opens her eyes and smiles at him. “Take care- of your brother,” she wheezes. “For his sake. For me.”

Thor’s eyes feel like they’re full of sand. He clears his throat. “Of course,” he promises. “Always. And thank you.”

“Always,” she repeats. He’s not sure which she means.

It doesn’t really matter.

~

When Thor follows the long hallway back to the waiting room, Loki is sitting in one of the chairs by the door. He’s silent and motionless, his head thrown back to rest against the wall.

Thor clears his throat again. “We should go,” he says quietly. “You’re going to be late to class.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Loki gets stiffly to his feet, like he’s a million years old. “Just let me wash my face first.”

When they get outside, the sun isn’t shining. It’s still too cold for snow.

~

Thor calls the nurse’s station when they’re done for the day. “Oh, okay,” he says into the phone. _She’s sleeping_ , he mouths to Loki. “Tomorrow, then. Yeah, thanks, you too.”

~

“Thor?”

Loki comes up on one elbow, the other hand over his eyes. The light coming in from the hallway _hurts_. “Mom? What’s going on?” He can just make out the clock: 3:52 AM. 

_Fuck._

When the chasm opens beneath him, he actually feels it happen.

And then he feels nothing. Nothing at all.

“Thor,” Frigga repeats. She touches his brother’s shoulder. “Wake up.”

“Ngh?”

“Wake up,” Loki repeats, shaking Thor. He wants to get this over with, wants to let the last little bit of his broken soul die.

“I’m sorry,” Frigga tells them. She squats down to eye level. “Jerry just called. Mrs. Wallace-‘ – her voice breaks, and Loki’s ears start ringing – “Mrs. Wallace died a few minutes ago. In her sleep, he said.”

“Shit,” Thor says. Loki says nothing, because empty husks don’t talk. They only blow away.

~

There’s so much to _do_. Jerry and Frigga call Mrs. Wallace’s kids, so her family won’t have to hear the news from the hospital staff. Odin helps Thor with the animals while Loki wanders around the barn like a zombie, unable to focus or function.

“I’ll drive you to school,” Odin tells them as they wash up afterwards. “It’s better than sitting at home today,” he assures them as Thor makes shocked little noises. “Trust me.”

~

There’s a small memorial service over the weekend. The ground is rock-hard; while her kids agree that she should be buried in the family plot, in accordance with her wishes, it won’t be happening until well into spring.

~

Frigga offers Jerry a job cleaning both houses. Everyone is pleased when he accepts. Well, everyone but Loki… who thinks he would be pleased as well if only he was still able to feel anything.

~

In April, after it’s only just warmed up enough to offer the faintest hope that spring may eventually return, Blue goes to horsey heaven. It should hurt. Thor cries. Loki just feels numb.

Hollow.

He goes through the motions, but nothing touches him. None of it seems real.

~

Jonah goes to live with Jerry’s sister. She doesn’t have a farm, not really, but she has – Jerry says - a large yard and a shed for her own two goats. “It’s better than keeping him here,” Frigga tells the two of them. “He’d be so lonely.”

~

Thor signs up for a summer woodworking course. He’s almost afraid to ask Loki to drive him there - his brother is way out of reach, gone somewhere Thor can’t follow – but his advisor tells him this instructor is great. It’s a chance he probably won’t get again.

“Sure,” Loki says. His eyes are flat. Dead. “Maybe I can finally get into dance or something.”

~

At almost 19 Loki is simply too old to dance professionally. Even so, he takes to ballet like a very, very graceful fish to water.

Thor often finds himself sitting in the studio after his own class finishes, watching. It’s beautiful. Mesmerizing.

And then it’s terrifying.

Eventually Thor can’t watch anymore, because it’s almost like his brother has taken a lover.

~

At the barre, Loki sweats out all the feelings he simply can’t process – let alone communicate – any other way. And when he’s done for the day, he has a plausible excuse for (and no option besides) collapsing into bed exhausted. 

Maybe it’s crossed the line into obsession, maybe it hasn’t.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care.

~

“I’m not sure what to think.” Thor shrugs. It’s July, and he can’t remember the last time he talked with his brother. Probably the day before they lost Mrs. Wallace. He can’t quite meet his mother’s worried gaze. “Maybe he’s moved on. I think,” he adds, knowing he’s being childish but not quite knowing how to stop, “he loves dancing more than he does me.”

“We have to be patient,” Frigga tells him. “When he’s ready, he’ll come back to us.”

“I’m not sure I can wait,” Thor grouses. “Not forever.” Loki is still condescending to bring him home after class, but his brother often heads back to school afterwards and rehearses well into the evening.

“Oh, sweetie,” she says, reaching out to cup his cheeks as though he’s a little boy again and not a grown man twice her size. “Please. Don’t do something you’ll regret later.”

Thor pulls away. He stands so abruptly that his chair tips over. “Yeah,” he says, his voice hard. “Maybe you should have told _him_ that one.”


	93. Chapter 93

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grieving takes space, and time. Mrs. Wallace has one more surprise for everyone.

By the beginning of August the lawyers have gotten everything signed off - all the i's dotted and all the t's crossed - and Mrs. Wallace's estate comes out of probate. Over the course of two days the lot of them find out that Mrs. Wallace was far richer than they could ever have imagined... and that, now, they themselves are.

She leaves enough to each of her children, and to any children her kids may have, to ensure there won't be any contesting. That's only right, and to be expected.

What isn't expected, though, is what she does for Bright Star itself and for Odin and his family.

She pays Odin and Frigga back the value of what had been her farm, plus enough to ensure its upkeep for at least two generations. In addition, she leaves a separate trust to provide professional, on-site care for any pets, farm animals, exotics, and beasts of burden resident at the farm at such time as it passes out of Odinson hands... with the stipulation that Odin amend the paperwork for the farm to make adhering to the rules of the trust a contingency of subsequent gift, inheritance, or sale.

She leaves both Thor and Loki enough money – each, individually - that they'll never _have_ to work in their lives, in trust until they are 25 years of age but with no restrictions thereafter, plus an allowance to get them from now until then. Jerry gets an allowance, too, with no restrictions; the papers do note, though, that Mrs. Wallace hopes he will stay on to work for Frigga.

Jerry is sitting back by the door with an arm slung around his wife’s shoulders. Frigga winks at him, across the sea of chairs. He nods and smiles.

A few pieces of antique furniture go to the Wallace kids. The remainder of the house contents Mrs. Wallace leaves to Frigga and Odin, to do with as they see fit. All but that one wooden bowl, which is to stay with the house. That's fair, too; it ought to.

She bequeaths the woodshop contents to Thor and Loki, with right of first refusal to Thor in the event Loki wants to be bought out of his share eventually.

The car goes to Loki, "if it still runs after all this time."

Last, but not least, she leaves Loki a broad gold band with a huge emerald cabochon. It's nothing they've ever seen, and she doesn't leave behind any hints as to its story.

Loki cries when the lawyer hands it to him. It's the only emotion he's shown - outside of dance, and no one knows if _that's_ real or if he’s simply acting - since Blue died.

~

He doesn't wear the ring. Instead, he tucks it away somewhere like a magpie. No one dares to ask him about it.

~

During the last two weeks of August Jerry and Loki clean (and clean out) the farmhouse from attic to cellar. Odin hires a professional firm to conduct an estate sale. He and Frigga donate the proceeds to the local farmers' aid fund.

~

In September, right after the start of classes, Loki – along with all but one barn cat; that one has adopted Odin - officially moves to Bright Star. Frigga sees Thor crying when he thinks no one is looking, but her boys are stubborn and she knows he's not willing (or at least not ready) to be the one who grovels.

They’re not children anymore. She tells herself they really need to sort things out on their own this time.

~

The head of the classical dance program approaches Loki about majoring in fine and performing arts. The school runs a good program, but it’s not exactly a renowned one; the instructors think he could easily make a name for himself here and serve as a magnet for additional talent.

"I'm flattered," Loki tells her. In actuality, even though he hasn't been able to avoid noticing that he hasn't had much real competition, he's closer to dumbfounded. "But I'm staying in town when I graduate.” There isn’t any career path for dancers or even actors here. “When I finish my degree I have a farm - or a business, or both - to run."

"You're smart," she tells him. "I've seen your academic record, too. You could certainly handle a dual major. Just think about it," she says when he starts to beg off. "We'll talk about it again at the end of the semester."

If he's serious about saying no, Loki knows, he should drop this term's dance classes. Yes, class _es_ , plural. He laughs at himself… who is he fucking kidding? As if. He _loves_ those classes, loves how he gets credit for what feels like play. It's what keeps him sane. No? Sane _ish_ , then, maybe.

~

One of the girls - women, really; they're adults now, coming up on 19 and practically ancient - in the orchestra is also in Loki's animal husbandry class. She stops him after their first exam to blush bright point and then ask him if he's taken. She's intelligent and nice, with intense brown eyes. "I- I don't think so," he tells her. "I'm not sure. It's a long story. But I'm gay anyway," he adds with a rueful smile. "So there's that."

She smiles back. "Too bad," she says. "You seem interesting. I was hoping to get to know you better."

There's nothing to know. He's an empty shell. "That's a nice thing to say," he tells her instead, smiling again as he turns to go. "I've got to get to dance. Have a good one. I'll see you around."

He walks into rehearsal with his head held a little higher, just the same.

~

Thor goes out for club lacrosse. With the animals gone, he needs something to keep him busy. Something, that is, which isn't mooning over his brother's rehearsals.

It's not football, but it's fun. He likes it.

~

If the car honks he never hears it. The impact comes right out of nowhere. Thor flies off his bike but hits the pavement rolling; there's no real harm done. It's the gravel that hurts more than anything, and it's really the bike he's worried about. Without it he’ll have to rely on Loki for rides again, and between their schedules and the way his brother now lives next door that can only be horrible awkward.

"Jane Foster," the dark-haired woman – he recognizes her; she sits at the front of his astronomy class and appears to know more about the universe than their instructor - says. "Are you okay? I'm _so_ sorry." She puts out a hand to help him up, which is ridiculous considering he's easily twice her size.

He takes it anyway. Her fingers are cold and delicate. They remind him almost painfully of Loki's.

~

Jane makes a good study partner. The instant he senses where she might be headed, though, he shuts her down. "I'm in love with someone," he tells her. "I think we're taking a break, but it still wouldn't be fair to you - to anyone - for me to get involved with someone else. Not with the way I still feel."

She nods. "That's very noble of you," she says. "Friends, then. And I hope you patch things up with your- your love."

He smiles; he's so relieved. "Yes, of course. Friends. Thank you."

She's just as good a study partner after their little talk. The whole thing actually works out nicely.

~

Loki opts to go to a fall exhibition game, just to see what lacrosse is all about. It's a Saturday, so he drags Sif – who’s home from school on the weekends now because she’s had a falling-out with her own boyfriend – along for the ride. Loki knows that if he hates the sport, she'll find some way to distract him.

What actually distracts him, though, is Thor. His brother looks like a Greek god out there, muscular and powerful, hair like spun gold in the glow of the late-season sun.

Sif drags Loki down to the front of the stands after the game. The (victorious, of course; Thor is not someone who loses) home team hasn't come off the field yet, but they’re far from the only fans crowding the sidelines.

Loki makes a beeline for the tiny brunette in the ODINSON jersey, Sif hurrying along behind him. "Hi," he says when the woman jumps around after he taps her a little too sharply on the shoulder. "I'm Thor's brother. Are you his girlfriend?"

She frowns. "If you're his brother, wouldn't you _know_ that?"

Loki makes himself grin, a bit wickedly. He can feel Sif tugging at his wrist; he ignores it. "I doubt it,” he tells Jane. “We're not very close right now.

"Oh," she says, simply. From the look on her face, though, it's more like _ohhhhhhh_ and Loki wonders what sort of quicksand he's just blindly marched himself into. "No, we're friends."

"Ah, I see," Loki says, too brightly. "This is Sif," he offers, dragging Sif forward as she clutches his forearm. He's _strong_ these days, startlingly so, and he loves it. "We're friends too."


	94. Chapter 94

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Separate but equal? It's good in concept, and it only hurts if you look at it a little too closely.

As the weather turns more and more wintery, practice moves inside. Thor starts training with the varsity lacrosse team. The coach and co-captains have watched him play club; with his fitness level and his longstanding football background, they’re confident he could make the squad come spring. He may not be the instant standout he’d once been in football, they warn him, but he’ll at least have decent competition (which, fun as club play was, Thor does have to admit he hasn’t really had this semester). Even better, they point out, he’ll be given the opportunity to develop high-caliber skills.

They like the way he moves his feet, the coach tells him. They’re pleased with how he’s _fast_ for a big guy, and imposing. Most of all, they like it that he’s a good team player.

It doesn’t take nearly that much for them to talk him into it, but he likes the sound of it enough that he just listens politely and lets them keep at it until they’re done.

~

Frigga and Odin are pleased. While they’ve always been supportive of his decision to give up high school football, especially given the situation, Thor knows his parents realize (more than he does, sometimes) that he’s missed being part of a good team. They’re obviously glad to hear he’s found a way back to that. They’re probably glad he’s in better spirits, too, although he’s grateful they both refrain from _saying_ so.

His classes are going fine, too. Thor still studies with Jane most days, because she’s a good influence. Plus, it’s nice… a lot nicer than studying alone. She’s found herself what’s probably going to become a boyfriend someday, but she still makes time for their friendship and he finds himself really appreciating that. It’s not like high school, where the minute people paired off it was like they dropped off the face of the earth. Himself included.

She doesn’t seem to like his brother, which he probably shouldn’t tolerate but finds secretly comforting. “There’s something about him that worries me” is all she’ll admit, but – whatever she actually thinks – it’s enough to keep her from pressuring Thor to mend the rift that’s formed between himself and Loki. Not that he wouldn’t like to see the rift in question mended; at some level he very much would. He’s just tired of being pressured.

He’s also tired of getting his heart broken over misunderstandings and miscommunication. Yes, he agrees every time his mother brings it up (and she doesn’t bring it up very often anymore, which is somehow both a relief and achingly sad simultaneously), Loki isn’t the only one playing a part in that. Yes, he himself is part of the problem… and could be part of the solution. It’s true. He knows that. Still, he’s tired of it.

~

Thor doesn’t see his friends from home very much these days – Volstagg is very busy with work, and with his new wife and newer baby. The rest of them - the old gang - aren’t around during the semester, except for Sif. Thor isn’t _avoiding_ Sif, exactly, but she spends far too much time with his brother and it’s pretty clear whose side she’s on.

If they’re taking sides, which he’s not sure they are. Ultimately, he’s just uncomfortable talking with her because he can’t shake the fear that anything he says will get straight back to Loki.

When he actually stops and thinks about it (and he tries very hard not to, because it hurts in ways he can hardly stand), Thor also can’t shake the bone deep feeling that – despite his good grades and his new lacrosse friends and his woodworking classes and his nice, full schedule – he’s lost more then he even knew he had to start with. He’s lost Mrs. Wallace, and Blue, and even Jonah (Jerry often says he should stop out and visit “their” goat, who has a happy home with what Jerry calls “the two goat ladies,” but Thor always finds an excuse not to; he has no idea why).

He’s lost his brother and his lover and- and everything that made life really worth it.

Each time he gets to thinking, Thor wipes the tears from his face, blows his nose, and soldiers on.

~

A couple of weeks before their birthdays he accidentally catches his brother leaving the house. Loki quickly smiles and waves… and drives away.

For an instant his brother had looked- _shocked_ , probably. Thor gets that.

Loki’s schedule is normally predictable enough (as in, he’s never at the house at all; if he needs something from either of their parents, he simply invites them over) that Thor can keep completely out of his brother’s way. Too, Thor is careful to only use the woodshop on the days he knows Loki is rehearsing.

When he’s at Bright Star he never goes near the house itself. “You should stop in,” Odin suggests occasionally. “Your brother’s done some neat things with the place. You’d like it.” Thor always nods, but he never _does_ anything.

~

The following week he spots Loki across the academic quad as everyone – himself included – is hurrying between classes. He almost doesn’t recognize his brother; Loki’s hair is chin-length now, much shorter than it’s been ever since they were children, and wavy-curly. Loki is walking with another guy and two women, all of them bundled up against the cold and carrying battered black dance bags slung over their shoulders. They walk with such grace that Thor feels like a lumbering elephant. Loki never does look in his direction, and Thor doesn’t follow them. He has a class to get to.

~

Loki is not at all sure what the three things have in common but, as the semester progresses, he finds himself adoring animal husbandry, Shakespeare, and ballet. He’s in easily the best shape of his life. He’s eating, regularly and well, because he has to; dancing and working out daily mean fueling up or passing out, and the instructors won’t let him rehearse if they catch him doing the latter. And while Loki still feels kind of flat and empty, almost like he’s observing life from the outside, he’s more than halfway through the semester before it hits him that he hasn’t spent so much as a single day holed up in the restroom.

~

The people around him accept that he’s private. A little odd, maybe, and a lot mysterious. They don’t expect anything unreasonable of him; as long as he finishes his assignments and works hard at his dancing, they’re good.

Those are things he can do. Things he _wants_ to do. He’s dancing better and better with each passing week – even he can see that much, as self-deprecating as he’s wont to be – and he’s still getting his studying done. While the semester isn’t over, Loki knows his grades to date are perfectly decent.

~

He celebrates his birthday (and his newly-minted membership in the _hoity-toity club_ , thank you Mrs. Wallace) by making Bright Star’s upstairs parlor over into a small dance studio. It already has wonderful floor-to-ceiling windows in the three-sided bay that looks out over the side yard; he adds portable mirrors and a free-standing barre and splurges like crazy on cool modular flooring that is simply perfect underfoot. A few pieces of appealing furniture and the place is a fresh little haven. There isn’t room for much in the way of leaping, not unless he wants to brain himself on the antique chandelier he can’t bear to even _think about_ removing, but that’s okay. Loki knows he has countless other ways in which he can put the space to use.

~

Frigga invites him to the house for cake and birthday dinner. Loki- isn’t ready? Doesn’t want to spoil his fragile peace? He doesn’t know what it is, exactly, but he- he can’t. “Come over Saturday morning,” he suggests instead. “I want to show you what I’ve been working on.”

He doesn’t say “and don’t bring my brother.” Honestly, he’s not really sure whether he wants her to… or not.

She doesn’t.

“This is lovely,” she says, looking around the room. “So peaceful.” It’s snowed overnight, just a dusting but it’s enough to change the quality of the light. The resulting glow works nicely with the pale, pale green curtains Loki’s hung. They’re so sheer they’re nearly see-through.

Loki smiles. He can feel himself blushing. He _loves_ Frigga and it’s nice to feel something for a change. “Thanks,” he tells her sincerely, “but I meant I wanted to show you some of my _program_.” He guides her to the silk-upholstered loveseat and then perches neatly beside her. “You’re coming, right? To one of our performances?” It’s his first time dancing in something that’s not just a recital; he’s simultaneously excited and terrified. Both of those are things his mother’s presence will make manageable.

Frigga hugs him. “Of course,” she promises. “There’s no way I would miss it. Now, please, show me.”


	95. Chapter 95

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all for show.

Odin is still in his office when Frigga gets home from work. That in itself isn’t particularly unusual, but her husband has got the door shut… and that _is_ a lot less typical. She hovers by the door with one hand in the air for well over a minute, contemplating knocking. Ultimately, though, she decides just to go into the kitchen and start pulling dinner together. Sometimes it’s just best to wait things out.

“Oh, hi, honey,” she says from her perch by the stove as Thor plods past the pantry. “I didn’t realize you were home.” It’s not really a lie; she really didn’t have any way of knowing exactly who might have been off talking to Odin.

He opens the fridge and stares blankly at its contents. “Huh? Oh, yeah,” he tells her. “I was talking with dad.”

Frigga purses her lips and watches as he roots through the containers of leftovers. “Don’t spoil your dinner,” she admonishes. “We’ll be eating soon.”

Thor shoots her a wan little grin. “I’m a growing boy,” he reminds her. “I don’t foresee that being a problem.” He turns back to the open refrigerator. She pretends not to hear as he takes a deep breath and lets it out in a loud whoosh. “Are you guys going to Loki’s thing,” he asks. “His dance thing, I mean.”

Frigga is confident she can count the number of times over the years that’s she’s missed something – a performance, a sporting even, an exhibition, a speech – to which either of her kids had invited her on the fingers of one hand. By the time the two of them had gotten to high school, her boys had become independent enough that they didn’t want their parents following them everywhere, and she’d respected that. But earlier in their fledgling careers she’d been to literally _everything_. And Thor knows it.

That’s probably not what he’s asking, though.

“I am,” she says. “I’m excited about it. This is a really big deal to your brother.”

Thor stiffens. He shuts the refrigerator without even bothering to grab himself anything. “I’m not sure if I should go or not,” he admits. “I doubt he would even want me there.”

Inside, Frigga does a little dance of her own. She’s been waiting a long time for this moment. “Oh, I wouldn’t assume that,” she tells her son. “I think he would like it if you went, actually.” She goes out on a flimsy limb: “Do you want to ride with us? It’s just me and your father going.”

She watches as he considers it. “No,” he says at last. “That’s okay. Maybe I’ll see if Sif is available.”

~

“Are you kidding me,” Sif exclaims when he asks her about the dance program. “Have you _seen_ Loki dancing? It’s incredible. I can’t believe he just started six months ago. He’s so good, it’s insane. Um, that was a yes,” she says when he can’t find his voice and just gawks at her. “He’s really impressive. I’d go just to see him, even if we weren’t practically family.” She looks at him a little strangely. “Wait. _You’re_ not thinking of going, are you?”

He frowns. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Sif laughs. “Do you want a list?” He doesn’t think he does, actually, but she goes on anyway: “You don’t even like ballet. The two of you aren’t speaking. I’m sure you have-.”

“Hold on,” he cuts in, interrupting her mid-sentence and not really caring that he’s probably being a little rude. “Did he tell you that? That we aren’t talking?” It isn’t what happened at all, not as far as he can remember. Which admittedly isn’t all that far, at least on this particular subject. Something went badly wrong shortly after Mrs. Wallace died and he’s honestly not even sure he knew what it was at the time. “Because that’s not what-.”

“Stop,” she orders, returning the favor. “No one told me anything, Thor, but I _have eyes_. And ears,” she points out. “Don’t try to pretend nothing’s different. The two of you used to be inseparable and now- well, you know. It’s like you don’t even know each other.”

“What does Loki say about it,” Thor tries again.

She lets out an exasperated growl. “He doesn’t say anything,” she complains. “Of course. Whatever else you may no longer have in common, the two of you are both incredibly stubborn. The worst I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen some doozies.”

“That’s not fair,” he snaps. She may be right. He’s not admitting it, even if that proves her damned point. “I miss him. I _love_ him. And none of that means anything,” he complains, “not to anyone.” Least of all his brother.

Sif takes one of his hands in both of hers. “Whoa there,” she tells him. “Slow down. You can say whatever you like, but I’m willing to bet what you just told me would mean a hell of a lot to Loki.”

That does shut Thor up, finally. He swallows and tries to speak, a couple of times, but nothing actually happens. In the end he gives up and just nods.

“You’re going, then?” Sif eyes him.

Thor nods again. “I am,” he chokes out. “I have to. No matter what, I swear I will.”

She shakes her head. “God help us.”

~

Sif is right, in a lot of ways, Thor knows, whether or not he wants to admit it. He has no particular love for ballet. It’s not so much that he _dis_ likes it; it’s just something he’d never really paid any mind at all, at least until his brother had started dancing, and even then his “interest” had been limited to gawking at Loki during those early rehearsals. He doesn’t really even know what it was that he’d been watching; just that his brother in motion was – and, doubtless, is - a beautiful, beautiful thing.

As he sits (not with his family, because some things are private) in the second row and the house lights come down, Thor is shaking.

~

Loki dancing, with short, fluffy hair and gorgeous legs, is so much more than Thor’d remembered. His brother floats above the stage, each leap like magic.

Several times Thor catches himself holding his breath. It’s lovely and amazing and even though he isn’t really following the story he’s- awed.

And then late in the performance things get- disturbing.

Loki _kisses_ his (female) dance partner. On the mouth. Like both of them mean it.

Of course, if Thor had been following the story better, there might be a logical explanation. But he wasn’t, and there isn’t. He doesn’t care that _dance is theatre_ and that none of this _means_ anything.

His eyes fill with hot tears, and he has to leap up in the middle of everything and sprint for the lobby.

~

“Thor? Are is everything okay?”

It’s Sif. That figures.

“I saw you run out of the auditorium,” she tells him when he doesn’t answer. “I thought maybe you were sick- you know, you were about to hurl or whatever.” And then something clicks and she stops. “It’s a _romance_ , Thor,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You didn’t seriously think-.”

“Didn’t think what,” a voice behind him asks.

It’s Loki.

“Thor saw-,” Sif starts.

Thor cuts her off. “You were great,” he tells his brother. All he wants to do is _hold_ Loki. But not here, not in front of everybody. He takes a huge breath and tries hard not to let himself make the grave mistake of _thinking_. “Listen,” he asks his brother, “is there somewhere we can maybe talk around here?”


	96. Chapter 96

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It takes a lot of patches to make a serviceable quilt.

Loki steadies himself with both hands – fingers splayed across the shower wall, one palm on either side of the flat, worn silvery ring that surrounds the temperature control - and closes his eyes. He lets his head drop slowly forward, until the hot water sluices down his back and rounds his neck to trail in a broken stream from his chin. He comes up on his toes, then settles into a comfortable hamstring stretch. It feels good to focus on his muscles, on letting the thrumming water knead away the tension... on the contrast between the cool, slick tile and the warmth of his own skin.

It's relaxing, much more so than _thinking_ will ever be.

His mind keeps darting back anyway.

"Sure," he'd told his brother, without taking any time to weigh the options. "Just let me go take _this_ off," he’d requested, gesturing at his sweaty, heavily made up face, "and take a quick shower."

Thor had smiled a little, hands crammed deep in the pockets of his trousers – his brother had dressed nicely for the show, almost like he'd been out on a date or something - and powerful shoulders up around his ears. "Uh, yeah," Thor’s agreed. "I'll wait for you here?"

Loki's ridiculously sentimental heart had wanted his brother to follow him into the changing room and wait – face flushed and hair curly from the steam - just outside his shower stall. His self-preserving brain, though, had secretly hoped Thor would say there wasn't time; that it was late and _homework_ and they'd just have to try again on some other occasion. Loki’d compromised and said nothing, just nodded and turned away. And then he’d rolled the dice: the shower he's taking has been anything but quick; the choice whether or not to wait it out is once again his brother's.

It feels dangerous, as though he’s playing Thor roulette. He feels- like a brave coward, probably.

Loki tosses his soaking wet hair out of his face, up and back in a long, smooth arc. He sighs. _Time to face the music, kiddo_ , he tells himself as he spins the knob quickly from hot to cold to off.

~

There's nothing to be gained by skipping his regimen, not in this weather. Loki roots around in his bag for his chamois towel and hair stuff. He scrunches his wavy-curly mop as dry as possible and then works a small blob of gel into it. Next come a few swipes of toner, for the last vestiges of the stage makeup. Lip gloss, moisturizer, hand cream, soft socks, procrastination.

Loki checks himself out in the mirror. He looks nothing like the old Loki, the one his brother used to- to fuck. To love. Well, except for the eyes. New, improved Loki still has the same eyes he’s always had. Green, grey, pretty.

He pulls on cozy stretch lounge pants and a baggy sweater that smells of vanilla and mango. By now, he's pretty much run out of ways to stall. He wraps his scarf around his neck - it's cold out; he doesn't want to stiffen up and end up regretting it tomorrow - and pulls on his mittens. _Get your shit together and go out there_ , he orders himself. _Thor’s gone, or he isn’t. You did this to yourself. Deal with it, Loki_.

~

Thor turns out to still be there - _still there_ \- when Loki, bag over his shoulder and a few tendrils of damp hair sticking to his face, strolls faux-casually out into the hallway. His brother is leaning against the painted cement, about halfway up the thigh of the giant dancer that graces the wall outside the performance studios. All of the doors are closed. The building is always nearly empty this time of night, even after an event. That’s all the more true tonight; it’s just before finals, close to the end of the semester (and after that the holidays, thankfully). No one is going to be randomly sticking around.

The rest of the performers, who weren’t busy trying to drown themselves in the showers, are long gone as well.

Loki shakes his hair out of his face and looks up and down the empty hall. “Did Sif abandon you,” he asks. His voice is s shade or two rougher than he’d like it to be. “That wasn’t very nice of her.”

His brother shrugs. “I told her to go on home,” he admits. “I thought maybe we could- go for coffee? Do you still drink coffee?”

“ _My body is a temple_ ,” Loki parrots. “Oh, gag. Please. Of course I still drink coffee. Hel _lo_. College student. Plus, I’m starving.”

“So that’s a yes?” Thor peels himself off the wall and straightens, smoothing his clothing. It’s really only then that Loki realizes his brother seems at least as nervous as he is.

“Mm. Come on.” He beckons, and two heartbeats later Thor falls into step beside him.

~

It’s almost – no, screw that… it _is_ \- weird to look across the top of the car and see his brother standing beside it, all set to hop in. It’s been so long. Loki throws his stuff into the back seat and, on a whim, prances around to the passenger side to sweep the door open for Thor. “Please,” he says, with a little bow. “Make yourself comfortable.”

~

The city is nearly as deserted as the auditorium had been. They drive around for a bit before Loki settles on a late-night coffeehouse, one that serves the best grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches he’s ever eaten. His brother graciously holds the door for him, and circles around behind him to pull out his chair. It’s all very nice, really.

“So,” Thor says without further preamble, as soon as the hostess has installed them in one of the tiny corner booths. “Are you- are you seeing someone?” He laughs, like it’s awkward. “I mean, if you are, it’s okay. I just- I’m curious if you’re taken.”

Loki’s stomach can’t make up its mind whether to sink or soar. In the end he’s thankful it’s still empty. He teeters for a long moment at the precipice. “I’m- I’m saving myself for someone I lost,” he says quietly, looking around the dimly lit restaurant at pretty much anything that isn’t Thor. “I guess you could say I’m married to a memory.”

His brother draws looping circles on the soft green placemat with the bowl of a teaspoon. “And that person was really important to you?” Thor’s voice is low and uneven.

“Is,” Loki corrects. He feels as wobbly as his brother sounds. They’re at a crossroads, and he has no idea which way to turn. “Is very important. He’s- he’s always been like a brother to me.”

Thor inhales sharply, like he’s in pain. It’s awful. Whatever game they’re playing, Loki- just can’t anymore. “I miss you _so_ much,” he admits, carefully turning one hand palm up in the middle of the tiny table.

“Oh, god,” his brother whispers. Thor touches his fingers and then grabs on like- like they’re both drowning. “Oh, baby.”


	97. Chapter 97

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell and show.

“So, where to?” They’d talked for well over an hour, until the coffee shop’s closing up for the night had chased them back out into the wintery evening, and then they’d walked and talked some more. Now they have somehow circled back to the car yet again, after at least the fourth lap around the long block, a small park, and the convenience store parking lot, and Loki knows this needs to stop. While he’d love to talk all night (and he can’t shake the feeling that this is some kind of enchanted encounter, one that will abruptly end with a hard fall back into reality the moment either of them leaves) he’s cold and kind of sore and Thor is yawning. “Do you want me to take you back to campus, or to Sif’s, or… should I take you home?”

Thor’s shoulders come up again. “Home, please,” his brother says. “If you don’t mind.”

Loki laughs. It’s not anything remotely like _funny_ , but – as easily as the conversation had flowed, almost as if they’d never been apart – he’s massively nervous again. This much panic simply has to come out somehow. It always has, and he has the scars to prove it. “Why would I mind,” he asks. He doesn’t mean it to sound condescending, but- well, it does. It must. At least, his brother reacts that way. Loki feels bad, he really does, but his mouth keeps right on going without him. “I mean,” – and he’d slap himself if he could, he would – “I _do_ live right next door.”

“Not that anyone would know it,” Thor retorts. That stings. Loki’s eyes burn, and not just from the cold this time.

“ _Mom_ knows it,” he tells his brother. “She comes over all the time.” But this isn’t what he wants, not at all. “Look,” he tries again, propping his elbow on the roof of the car and leaning into the palm of his own hand. “I had a really nice time with you this evening. I don’t want to fight and ruin any of it.” He blinks back a few uninvited tears. “And I didn’t mean to be snippy just now. I’m sorry.”

Thor takes a big, wet-sounding breath. “Yeah,” he says, “I really enjoyed this too. I don’t want it to end. I- I’m afraid it’s a dream,” he says, heavily, “and I don’t want to wake up and have it be over.”

Loki only takes a second or two to consider their options. Nothing ventured and all that. “Do you want to stop over,” he suggests. “To my- to Bright Star, I mean? Or would that be too weird?”

“No. I mean yes,” Thor fumbles. “No, it’s not weird,” he tries to explain. “And yes, I would love to.”

“Good,” Loki says. His voice may sound bright enough but he’s so cold and terrified that his teeth are practically chattering. “Hop in, then. I’m freezing.”

~

Thor can’t get over how _different_ everything is. The lean-to door is still the same old cheap, rickety wooden thing, but a delicately-stenciled pale green vine winds up its inside and climbs onto the underside of the warped, sloping ceiling. There’s a large, carpeted cat tree sitting by the door to the house proper, with two of the barn cats curled up in one of its tubes together. They come to life, yawning, as Loki unlocks the door. One of them squeaks; Thor thinks he’s about to die of feelings as his brother stops to lean in close and talk to it softly.

“She misses her brother,” Loki explains. “He stays with dad, now. He seems happier than he ever was living here, but she’s never really gotten over it.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know he has other options.” Thor isn’t sure if they’re talking about cats anymore. Or if they’re both having the same conversation, even.

Loki smiles. Thor can feel himself melting. “There are _always_ other options,” his brother points out. “Listen, do you want a tour? It’s not as cool-looking at night, but…”

It actually seems like it’s going to be more than a little weird seeing the place now, with the mental image of how it had looked the night Mrs. Wallace had gone to the hospital still painfully fresh in his mind, but Thor would suffer a lot worse than this to spend a few minutes more with his brother. “Sure,” he says, trying to sound more excited and less frightened. “Lead the way.”

As the two of them walk through the house, Loki prattling on and Thor trying gamely to _uh huh_ and _unh uh_ at all the right moments, he can’t help but notice many things. The house is far more softly lit, even at night, than it ever was. That, and it’s a lot emptier. His brother hasn’t got a ton of furniture, and what Loki does have is lighter and more delicate than Mrs. Wallace’s solid, practical things. There are posters on the walls in lieu of fancier art; they’re framed in whitewashed pine, and a few are swathed in gauzy fabric. Many of the windows sport little stained glass baubles, birds and butterflies Thor can only imagine are lovely in the sun. The few rugs are pale and rather threadbare.

Loki, too, is lovely. He moves with a smooth grace Thor knows is new, and his ass in those soft pants is a true thing of beauty. Thor can only watch it move for so long before-.

“-Can I touch you,” he blurts out, while his brother is going on at some length about- about runners and chandeliers, maybe. Thor feels his face burn. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m really trying to listen, I swear. It’s just that you’re so distr- mmph,” he huffs,” right into his brother’s hot, slick mouth. “Nnn.”

Neither of them really says anything after that, save for the occasional choked “oh, you feel good” or “I’ve missed you so much, I can’t even.”

It’s the strangest thing. Loki tastes like Loki and smells like Loki, but that’s where the similarities end. Where once there’d been little more than skin sliding over bone, his brother’s back and ribcage are now made of plane after ridge of long, sleek muscle. Loki fights to get closer and closer, hands up under Thor’s shirt and fingers raking down his arms.

Thor grabs his brother by the hips and pulls their bodies flush from lips to knees; Loki wraps a slender, muscled leg around his waist – up high, way up - like it’s nothing.

He gasps. He can’t help it. “Sorry,” he tells his brother. “It’s just that- how do you _do_ that?”

Loki leans into Thor’s hands and arches backwards in a slow, graceful stretch. “Oh,” he says to the floor behind his own heels, “you’d be surprised. This is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.” He curls back up and wraps his arms around his brother’s neck. “You really have no idea,” he rasps, his lips just barely brushing Thor’s own. “So, do you want to come upstairs and let me show you?”


	98. Chapter 98

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The harsh light of day isn't so bad after all.

Thor rubs his eyes with loose fists. It doesn’t help; he’s still hopelessly disoriented. He rolls onto one side, struggling against the bedding tangled around his legs and chest, and blinks into the darkness. Where his clock should be, he can’t see anything. Maybe the power is off; it’s SO dark. There aren’t any computer or phone charger lights glowing across the room, no security lights peeking through the gaps in his blinds where the pull-string runs through, nothing. On top of all that, he doesn’t remember his bed ever being this hard or this lumpy.

Getting untangled is an exercise in futility. The harder he tugs, the less progress he makes. Thor gropes around, trying to figure out what’s trapping the sheets, and touches- warm skin?!

He gasps.

“Mm?” Behind his hip somewhere, the familiar voice is rough with sleep.

_Loki_.

It all comes back to him in a rush: the coffee shop, the nerve-jangling ride back to Bright Star, the aborted tour. The very up-close-and-personal demonstration of Loki’s newfound muscles and crazy flexibility… which he remembers - now that he’s actually halfway awake - is how they’d ultimately ended up here, intertwined in a heap on the floor in a dark bedroom, their bodies tangled together amidst a messy nest of blankets and sheets, pillows and towels.

The bed is hard, in other words, because it’s not a bed at all.

Thor groans inwardly. _Ugh_. He and his brother had needed to talk, not just the sort of buzzy catching up they’d done in the coffee shop but real, serious, _hard_ talking. The kind that hurts, that leaves a mark. Instead, they’d gleefully screwed on every flat surface (and some less-than-flat ones) in what felt like the entire upstairs. There’s no denying it had been wonderful, every bit of it. Never in his wildest dreams (which, to be fair, have never been particularly wild) had he imagined someone’s body could feel – could move – like his brother now does.

On top of that, the discovery process had scratched a hundred itches he hadn’t even known he’d had.

But they still need to talk.

And it certainly isn’t going to be any easier after last night.

Realistically speaking he and his brother probably shouldn’t have leapt straight back into sex, and Thor knows he shouldn’t have stayed over, but right now it’s the pitch black middle of the night. Sneaking out would not only be cowardly, but could very easily end up as exactly the sort of walk of shame their parents should never, ever see.

“Thor? Is everything all right?” Loki’s voice is soft and frightened-sounding, and Thor’s heart breaks a little.

“I’m here, baby,” Thor says. He rolls back into the center of the mess, wincing a little at the soreness in his lower back. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

His brother melts against him, hair tickling across his chest. “I- I dreamed, I guess, that it was all a dream,” Loki says. “That I’d come home alone and awakened alone, and- I- well, I’m so glad it wasn’t true. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Are you sure,” Thor asks, graceless and stupid. “I felt- I feel bad. Like I shouldn’t have let this- I shouldn’t have let last night happen, somehow.”

Loki stiffens. “Didn’t you _want_ it to?”

_Oh, jesus_. “Oh, trust me, I totally wanted it to,” Thor assures his brother. “Don’t think for a single second that I didn’t. And I’m not sorry,” he promises. “I love you. I had the best time. I just- I don’t want to do something wrong and screw this up. Not again.” He clears his throat. It’s a lot of talking and thinking for this time of night, especially after such a late start to sleeping. “I don’t want you to leave again. I don’t want to be alone again. And I hope you feel the same.” He really, really does. “But I feel like we should have sorted that out first, rather than just coming back here and climbing each other like trees, maybe.”

“I think that was mostly me,” Loki says, half coughing and half laughing. “Climbing, I mean. You. Like a tree. And I’m not sorry either. But, Thor?”

“Hm?” He’s so tired his eyes are _burning_.

“Do you think we can go back to sleep now and maybe talk about this later?”

Thor sighs. It’s no secret that, after a lifetime of practice, the two of them are both notoriously bad at coming back to things that trouble them. Still, his brother does have a point. “Okay,” he concedes. It _is_ late. Or early. Very, very early. Either way, he can’t be the only one who’s utterly exhausted. “I guess,” he says. “But on one condition.”

Loki pushes back a little and nuzzles Thor’s face. “And what would _that_ be,” he teases. He doesn’t sound frightened anymore.

“That we get in an actual _bed_ ,” Thor suggests. “I’m too old for this sleeping on the floor business.”

~

The next time Thor blinks awake, the sun is up. He fumbles for his pants and digs his phone out of a pocket; it’s 7:43 AM. He sits up with a muffled grunt and swings his legs over the side of a perfectly serviceable bed. “Baby,” he asks quietly, “do you have classes?”

“Not until 11:00,” Loki mutters, pulling the covers over his own head. “Tired. Sleep.”

Thor has class at 9:00, but it’s just a review session. It’s not like it takes much arm-twisting for him to roll back over, especially since - when he gets settled and stops wiggling around - his brother promptly nestles in against him.

~

They get to campus about 10:45, Loki with an obvious bite mark just to the side of his neck and Thor wearing the same clothes he’d had on yesterday evening (which are now rumpled and wrinkly and quite a bit worse for wear).

Loki must forget himself; he takes Thor’s hand as they make their way across campus. Thor takes a deep breath and lets him.

~

Frigga calls Odin around lunchtime. He’d gone to bed late last night, and she’d had an early meeting. This morning she’d tiptoed around in the dark (before leaving the house stupid early) while he’d pretended to be sleeping, since she was obviously going to great lengths not to wake him. “I don’t think Thor came home last night,” she says. Over the phone she sounds a little frazzled, and he feels bad. Maybe he should have admitted to being awake after all. “Have you heard from him,” she asks. “I’m not sure if I need to worry.”

Odin smiles to himself. “Well, no,” he says. “I actually haven’t talked to him so far today.” That’s not unusual. Thor normally goes about school activities pretty independently. ”But I can hazard a guess,” he adds, “as to what might have happened.”

“You think he went home with his brother,” she says, without even bothering to ask him to elaborate. Odin can’t tell over the phone if she’s pleased or sad or angry. He decides to chance it.

“After the way Loki danced last night? The way he kissed his dance partner? How could Thor have done anything different? “ Odin laughs, quietly, but not just to himself this time. “Seriously, I know my son. My _sons_ ,” he amends. “Both of them. They spent the night together. Just wait and see. Or, even better, invite them to dinner.”

~

“Loki,” Frigga says to her youngest’s voicemail. “It’s been a long time since you and I last cooked a meal together. Your father and I would love to have you over tonight after dance, if you’re free.”

~

“I swear they have my- the house bugged or something,” Loki tells his brother over lunch, holding the phone out so Thor can hear. “Surveillance cameras, hidden microphones, a full portfolio of fancy spy shit. Seriously,” he complains when Thor just laughs. “How else could they possibly know about- about yesterday? Because,” he goes on, all fired up now, “you _know_ that’s what this is _really_ about. They’re stalkers. I’ll tell them that right to their faces, too.”

“So,” Thor says, when Loki finally pauses for breath. “Does that mean you _are_ coming for dinner?”

~

Frigga is already in the kitchen getting the basics together when Loki knocks tentatively on the screen door. She pulls the heavy inner door open a crack – it’s _cold_ out there – and smiles at him through the mesh. “You don’t have to act like a guest,” she chides him gently. “This is still your house, even if you don’t actually live here. Now get yourself inside, and quickly. You’re letting all the heat out.”

Loki carefully shuts the door behind himself and toes off his snowy boots. She’s right; he’s shivering. On top of everything else he’d taken a quick shower after dance class; his hair isn’t wet so much as it is frozen. He takes off his coat, working hard (and not quite succeeding) at not feeling self-conscious. His usual after-rehearsal clothes aren’t exactly going-out-for-dinner material – thick, soft, close-fitting leggings, a loose, lightweight t-shirt that doesn’t even come close to covering his butt, leg-warmers, the ubiquitous scarf – but this is just his parents.

His parents… and Thor. At least he hopes his brother will be here. He’s reasonably sure Frigga wouldn’t be going to all this trouble if it was just to be the three of them.

“What are we making,” he asks his mother as she washes her hands. He hangs his snowy, drippy coat and bag (and scarf, once he finishes unwinding it) neatly on one of the big hooks just inside the doorway and then pads over to join her at the sink. “And where exactly do you need me?”

“Nothing fancy,” she assures him, in answer to his first question. “I know it’s getting late, especially for a weeknight. He half-expects her to get in a little dig about how he and his brother must be short on sleep already; she doesn’t. “We’ve got some homemade gnocchi in the freezer, and good sauce… how about having that, and you can help by making a nice big salad.”

“How many are we serving tonight,” Loki asks - as he pokes around looking for salad makings - trying for _only mildly curious_. He finds red leaf lettuce in the fridge, a decent onion, and a bowl of hothouse tomatoes on the counter.

Frigga laughs. “Yes, dear,” she says, “your brother will be here. He’s just off to the store with your father; they’re correcting the sorry state of our wine selection.”

Loki sighs. “Thor and I might have made up a little already,” he admits. “At least, I hope so.”

“I see that,” his mother says, pointing with a sauce-splattered hand at his neck – at the bite mark he’d forgotten he’s no longer wearing anything to cover – and smiling. “I hate to be the one to break the news,” she tells him, not sounding particularly sorry, “but you two are never quite as subtle as you think you are.”

He makes a face at her. “And how do you know Thor’s the one who gave it to me,” he asks. “It could have been anybody.”

“Even _you_ aren’t brazen enough – not to mention that short on self-preservation - to come to dinner _with your brother_ sporting someone else’s marks,” she half-teases. “Seriously, though, Thor was bouncing off the walls when he got home. That’s at least three quarters of why I sent him to the liquor store with your father.”

“He held my hand at school today,” Loki confesses. He can feel himself choking up a little. “I’ve really missed him.”

She smiles and bumps him, shoulder-to-shoulder. “I would hug you,” she offers, “but I’d just get sauce on your shirt.”

Loki makes himself grin back at her. “That’s okay,” he says. “I still love you anyway.”

~

By the time Thor and Odin burst through the doorway, Odin stomping the snow off his pant legs and Thor lugging a case of wine, the kitchen windows are fogged over and Frigga and Loki are ringlet-haired and glowing. “I’m not sure which of you is more adorable,” Odin teases the two of them. “Clearly cooking agrees with both of you.”

Thor sets the box on the counter and hurries over to give Loki a quick kiss on the cheek. Loki shrieks; everyone laughs. “Your lips are _freezing_ ,” he protests. “Mooommm, make him stop,” he howls as Thor wraps both arms around him and plants a string of chilly kisses down his neck and out onto his shoulder. “He’s picking on me.”

Odin snorts. “Oh, how I’ve missed this.”


	99. Chapter 99

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If at first you don't succeed...

Much as it had _hurt_ to do so, the two of them had agreed that they should revert to status quo - the most recent, ugly sort of normal, where they live their separate lives and have little to do with one another - until they’d both finished with finals. Despite how indisputably hot their night together had been, Thor hadn't wanted to fall mindlessly back into bed until they'd had the Big Talk they both knew needed to happen. Loki, on the other hand (and it really was the smartest approach even though Thor hadn't liked it… which is to say that he’d pouted mightily about it at the time), had felt they shouldn't _have_ that talk until they were done for the semester. "This way we can concentrate on one thing at a time," Loki had said, "rather than doing a half-assed job and screwing up both our lives _and_ our coursework."

They'd had lunch together once; it was all their schedules would allow. If pressed, which he’s thankful he wasn’t, Thor would’ve had to admit it had felt kind of awkward. He doesn't know where they stand, and he doesn't like it.

~

Waiting until they’ve put the last pieces of this semester behind them sounds like the worst kind of torture.

In truth, though, the rest of reading week flies by. Thor spends it pretty much living in the library, along with Jane - her boyfriend is spending his days over in the medical sciences complex, probably crowded around the patient simulators with his own classmates - and a few other astronomy diehards. He never once sees Loki anywhere in or near the building, which is probably not all that surprising. From what he’s been told his brother's dance classes, much like his own woodworking seminars, culminate in projects rather than exams; case in point: the performance they’d all attended at the start of the month had been the equivalent of one of Loki’s finals.

And if Thor were grading, his brother would get a 4.0.

He knows Loki’s non-performance classes end in papers. His brother is probably holed up somewhere with wifi and coffee – and without annoying, distracting people - typing away.

The mental image makes Thor smile.

Smiling is something he hasn’t done nearly enough of recently.

~

"I still have it bad for him, mom," Thor had admitted to his mother early in the week, as the two of them shared a late-night snack of fancy cheese and fancier crackers. "If he tells me we're permanently done I'm not sure I can take it."

"Just hear him out," Frigga had advised. "If you can do that, I think things will fall into place. For both of you."

The way she’d put it, it sounds so easy. Thor knows it probably won’t be.

~

His last exam is on Thursday. After the test his class goes out together downtown. Thor tags along, but with the pressure of finals lifted there isn’t any good reason to stay with them. His heart just isn't in it.

_I'm done with the semester_ , he tells his brother – via email, not text, because he definitively doesn’t want to come across frantic, overeager or pushy - _and I won't have any school commitments until mid-January. Let me know if you want to get together. I'd love to see you_. He backspaces over and retypes the last part at least five times, torn between offering up too much of his heart and coming across as (untruthfully) cold or uncaring.

He’s thankful that Loki can't see that he's compulsively checking his phone for a reply.

Even if his classmates can.

_Sorry, I had dance_ , reads Loki's painfully-slow-to-arrive reply. _Dinner tomorrow night? Not with mom and dad... let's go out somewhere_.

Thor hastens to agree so enthusiastically that he nearly drops his phone.

"That was Loki, wasn't it," Jane says as they're all getting ready to leave. Sif is on her way over from the mexican joint a couple of blocks north of them, meaning no one has to give him a ride all the way out into the hinterlands. Not being able to drive is getting a little annoying; Thor is looking forward to next year, when he'll finally be 21 and can give the licensing process another go. He hopes it sticks this time. "Thor?"

He jumps, feeling a little guilty. "Sorry," he tells Jane. "I was thinking about something else and I got distracted. Yeah, that was Loki."

She frowns. "Is he around again? I just don't like it when he hurts you," she goes on when he nods in affirmation. "It doesn't seem- it's not good for you."

He makes himself smile. It's not her fault their situation is- complicated, and he knows getting stupidly defensive will just give her all the more reason to worry about his judgment. "We're just going to get together and talk," he says. "We have some things we need to clear the air about, you know?"

She doesn't, and it shows in her face. All she says, though, is "I hope you know what you're doing."

At that he laughs, honestly. "Yeah," he agrees. "Me too."

~

Loki has dressed up, like their dinner together is an actual date. His hair is in big, loose curly waves, dressed with just enough _something_ to leave it thick and shiny. He's wearing eye makeup, and a silky collared shirt that Thor really wants to run a hand over. Two hands, even. He carries himself with catlike grace, now more so than ever. 

"You look really nice," Thor acknowledges. He holds Loki's chair before sitting; he can be a good suitor. His throat is tight, though, and he'd love to stress-guzzle his water. He doesn't. Instead, he tries the requisite small talk: "How were your finals?"

"My hands hurt from so much typing," Loki says, spreading his fingers wide above the placemat. His nails are pale pink and wet-shiny. "I can only wear pink or clear polish in class," he explains, following Thor's gaze to the ends of his own fingers. "Lots of rules."

Thor takes a reasonable sip of water. He gets it, from all his years of sports. "Yeah," he says, warm and sympathetic. "Being in training kind of sucks that way."

Loki shrugs. His shirt shifts; it shows off a wide swath of collarbone. "It's mostly worth it."

Thor gets that, too.

~

The waitress comes to take their order. Neither of them tries for wine, even though Thor has his fake ID and Loki doubtless does as well. They need to do this sober.

"So," Thor tries when they're alone again. "What are your plans for next semester?"

"Working my ass off, mostly," Loki grumbles. "Earlier today I met with the Dean and officially declared a dual major." He takes a long swallow of water. "Not like I haven't been doing the work of one already, but it feels _heavier_ somehow now that it's official." He tears off a chunk of bread from the basket and starts methodically destroying it.

"Have you decided to dance professionally, then?" It isn’t easy for Thor to keep his own voice flat and even. If his brother is leaving, he-..."

"No, not really," Loki says. Thor almost chokes on another sip of water. "I started too late. I'll really never be of that caliber. I may go on for my MFA and teach or something. But I'm staying here at Bright Star. What," he huffs as Thor _does_ get a few drops down the wrong way and has to cough. "Why doesn't anyone ever believe me?"

_Because you are too beautiful and exotic for this place_ , Thor doesn't tell his brother. "I'm glad," he says. "I've been really afraid you’d be leaving."

Loki drops his bread. It crunches against the plate and sends a dusting of tiny crusty bits skittering across the table. "I stay," he says. "I always stay. It's everyone else who does the leaving."

_Oh_.

"I haven't gone anywhere," Thor says quietly. "I just wasn't sure what you needed. It seemed like you didn't want me around."

"I can't handle any more of being left behind," Loki says. "If that means being alone instead, I- um, so be it."

"What if I promise _I_ won't ever leave you behind," Thor asks, earnestly. "Would you be willing to try again?"

"But you _can't_ ," Loki retorts, and Thor's stomach drops as the rug flies out from underneath him. "Forever is a long time. It’s impossible. You can’t see the future. No one can."

"You're right," Thor admits, sadly. He can feel the tears starting. He's not hungry anymore; getting up and walking out is awfully appealing, really, but that would only add that much more weight to his brother's suspicions. "But I'm really not going anywhere regardless. I'll stay at the farm, if that's how it works out, and run a studio out of the woodshop. You can ask mom," he says, and his voice wobbles. "She'll tell you. I'm not making this shit up just to get you into bed."

Which, of course, is exactly when the waitress shows up with their entrées.

~

Loki pushes a few bits of food around. "Do you think either of us has _time_ for a relationship," he asks.

Thor snuffles, as quietly and politely as he can. There _are_ a few other diners, and he doesn't want to be _that person_. "Sorry. Hey, we've done it before, when we were taking care of everything for- for your place. I think we can figure out a way to make it work, if we want to."

"And _do_ you want to?" Loki runs one hand through his curls. His brows pinch together. "Even though this could be your one chance to get out, to have a normal life?"

Thor sits on his own hands to keep from reaching across the table and touching his brother. That would be cheating. He wants honesty, from both of them, even if that means life sucks mightily. "I do," he rasps. "I really, really do."

Loki sets down his fork and blots daintily at his eyes, looking up towards the ceiling. "Yeah," he says, after a long sigh. "So do I."


	100. Chapter 100

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 chapters? I'm not sure if that's impressive or embarrassing.
> 
> ~
> 
> Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Christmas doesn’t feel particularly festive. As a family they’d pretty much ignored Thanksgiving – both Thor and Loki were too busy with school (Loki especially, with the big performance coming up shortly thereafter), it was too painful after last year’s celebration with Mrs. Wallace… and there was just a little too much feuding going on – so Frigga had insisted early on that they each set aside the time to get together for _some_ sort of Yuletide celebration. Even so, Loki can’t help but feel, there hasn’t been enough of an opportunity since the end of exams to build up much in the way of pleasant anticipation.

This year his own (and only) concession to the holiday is lights. He’d found eight strings of pale multicolored bulbs on sale at one of the discount stores in town, and had spent most of a morning (or at least what was left of it after he’d finally managed to crawl out of bed) decking out his dance studio. During the day the wires look kind of stupid against the pale-colored walls (next year he will find some sort of gauzy cloth to hide the worst of it, which will make everything infintely better), but at night it’s nothing short of magical. With the early wintertime sunsets he can practice for a couple of hours before dinner, spinning around in a near trance as the pastel colors wash over his skin. He loves it.

Thor seems to love it, too; every day, a few minutes after Loki gets started, his brother sneaks in through the door closest to the stairs and pads quietly over to sprawl across the loveseat. By the time Loki finishes, Thor is invariably gone. Which is okay, considering that Loki asked him from the very beginning not to interrupt. Ever.

Christmas Eve is no different. Loki is working on a very difficult sequence for a program his intermediate class – which he still can’t believe he’s going to be taking, given the short time he’s been dancing; he’s fully expecting he won’t be able to keep up with his fellow students and will have to drop back down to one of the less advanced classes before the semester is out – and he invariably misses his footing and stumbles. More than once he’s actually fallen, skidding across the floor with enough speed to take off a couple of layers of skin. It hurts. It’s humiliating. Picturing his teacher explaining how _It’s part of the learning process_ sets his teeth on edge.

Tonight he catches his toes coming out of a spin – on what he’d already promised himself would be his last pass - and sends himself flying. He skins the side of his elbow and bangs his hip and… you know what? Fuck it. He’s tired, he’s sweating like crazy, and he’d promised Frigga he’d be over to help with dinner at- well, about ten minutes from now. Which isn’t going to happen, not considering how badly he needs a shower. It’s all too much; when he comes to a stop, he slams the side of one fist onto the floor and bursts into tears.

No one hurries over to see if he’s okay, and that only makes him cry harder.

When he finally tires of being the only guest at his pity party – about two minutes later, because his elbow stings and he needs to get to his parents’ house - and sits up, his brother is – as usual – gone.

It’s probably not fair to be mad at Thor for _following Loki’s own instructions perfectly_ , and maybe – just maybe - his brother was already gone before he’d wiped out to start with. Just because something is fair and reasonable, though, doesn’t always make it nice, or easy. And this isn’t.

~

Loki’s still a little snarly when he pulls up the driveway next door. In his head, he’s gotten Thor alone and (totally unfairly; see: fuck it) issued an impressive tongue-lashing at least three times, twice in the shower and once again on the short drive over. One misstep is all it’s going to take for fantasy to become reality, Christmas Eve or no. Regardless of whether or not his brother is a mind reader (and, yes, Loki knows Thor isn’t one), injuries are injuries and his brother could at least have stuck around and shown a little sympa- “oww!”

Thor jumps. The arm his brother had wrapped around him drops away as though it’s made of lead. “Are you okay? What happened? Baby?” Thor hooks a finger under Loki’s chin and kisses the tip of his nose. “Talk to me.”

All the fight drains out of Loki, replaced by a flood of exhaustion so all-encompassing he can practically taste it. He’s had a lifetime to study his brother’s facial expressions and this particular time there’s no way Thor is faking. “I skinned my elbow,” he admits, quietly. Frigga is in the kitchen collecting what they’ll need to make tonight’s meal, and he has no interest in having a repeat of the same conversation with her as well. “It must have been after you left to come back over here. I’m fine,” he adds quickly when Thor looks abruptly panicked. “Just a little less skin than I started the day with… and a big dent in my ego.”

“Are you sure,” Thor whispers back. “I can cook if you need to go sit down.”

“Right,” Loki says. “ _That’s_ a great idea.” His brother pouts; Loki has to remind himself that Thor hadn’t been part of the last half hour’s arguments. They’d all happened in his own head, and they’d all been stupidly misguided. He leans in to kiss his brother’s cheek, just past the corner of Thor’s pretty red mouth. “Sorry,” he admits. “You were just trying to help. I didn’t need to react that way.”

“I’m a little worried about you,” Thor tells him. “I think you’re stretching yourself too thin. We’re supposed to be relaxing for a few weeks, you know?”

“It’s fine,” Loki says again just as Frigga pokes her head into the back entryway.

“Who’s too thin,” she teases, but there’s a hint of worry in her face. “I know It’s not Thor; feeding him takes the better part of my income. Loki, hurry up and get that coat off so I can see you.”

“I skinned my elbow,” he tells her, before she can jump to conclusions. “Quick, someone call the ambulance.” He peels off his coat and shoves the sleeve of his sweater up his arm. The missing skin is mostly covered with what will soon be scabs; one spot is still weeping a little. “See? Definitely life-threatening. I think I’m going to faint.”

Frigga hugs him, careful to avoid his arm. Loki pointedly ignores the little huff his brother makes behind him.

“Can you cook with that,” his mother jests as he slips out of his snowy boots. “Because I can have Thor-…”

“Please, both of you, I’m _fine_ ,” Loki protests. He’s tired, and sad, and hating himself a little for being such a Grinch this season. “Let’s get this done already, before Christmas Eve dinner ends up being Christmas Brunch.”

He does have to admit, though, (and just to himself; he has a reputation to uphold) that it helps quite a bit when Thor stops him at the kitchen doorway and kisses him tenderly beneath their mother’s mistletoe.


	101. Chapter 101

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't get it into 100 chapters (okay, I didn't try very hard), but I think 101 should do it.
> 
> My (most recent, lol) original intent was to tie a few more things up, but it feels better a little messy.
> 
> I'm going to miss these two! Thanks to all of you who have followed this since the beginning!

They muddle through the holidays, and then they muddle through the spring semester. When summer rolls around again neither one of them takes actual classes, but Loki is still in town almost every day for a few hours dancing. Thor just as regularly hitches a ride to school with him and gets in some quality turning and carving.

It’s a brutally hot summer, and they try to time their school runs for late morning. Doing so lets them spend a few precious minutes basking on the dock and still leaves the early evening for bowls. Thor makes a concentrated effort to carve several times a week, roasting or no, and Loki – at long last sufficiently over Blue’s death to, one, admit it was what had kept him out of the barn for so long and, two, actually suck it up and find his way back in – reprises his old job in _beautiful finishes_.

By August, when Thor has to swap school shop time for lacrosse practice and Loki trades the luxury of individual dance lessons for the comparatively restrictive frustration of group classes and rehearsals, they are sun-bronzed gods (okay _Thor_ is; Loki is faintly beige-pink with a smattering of freckles), cheerful and strong and well on their way to having amassed enough bowls to launch their business.

~

Thor takes entrepreneurship because he’s practical.

Loki takes a writing class that focuses on advertising copy, because he isn’t.

Except it _is_ a skill they’ll need. He hates that, but it’s true.

~

They turn 21. It should be a big deal, except Loki feels like he’s been limping along on this planet for far more than two-point-one decades already and Thor has long since lost interest in driving now that he and Loki are reunited. “Get your stupid license already,” Loki grumbles. “You never know what curves life might throw you.”

Thor doesn’t think life will be throwing any more non-navigable curves, not after all they’ve been through, but in the end he does reapply just to make his brother happy. At least, that’s what he’s trying for. It should work, too, but Loki has never been particularly predictable. Somehow, it doesn’t.

~

It’s not an easy road to walk, and despite Thor’s confidence the path isn’t always a straight one.

Loki gets the opportunity to spend the better part of a semester abroad, supposedly to further his study of Shakespearian drama _in situ_ , and takes it. The fancy label doesn’t fool anyone; he’s dancing, away from home, just like he’d sworn he never would.

During the semester Jane spends too much time head-over-heels in love with science, and not enough seeing to things with her soon-to-be-doctor of a boyfriend. She gets dumped for it, too. Thor is alone, and a little angry, what with Loki off dancing overseas.

It’s a bad idea, and not what he really wants, but it’s there and he’s hurting. In the end he cuts things off before anything unforgiveable happens, but his brother is anything but forgiving by nature and there’s quite a bit of damage done.

In return (in _retaliation_ , Thor thinks), Loki comes back to Bright Star and dances a male/male adaptation of Beauty and the Beast; a fundraiser for the school’s gay alliance. By the time Thor is finished watching his brother literally crawl all over his very comely costar, he and Loki yet again aren’t speaking.

~

It doesn’t last.

Each new time they end up all set to tear one another apart, the sting is a little less sharp and the fierce desire to fix things burns a little hotter.

Loki breaks a vase over the lathe in a dramatic shower of fury and knife-sharp glass fragments. Thor throws him out of the barn, bodily. Loki bites Thor in the arm.

They apologize. They promise to do better and actually mean it.

~

By the time graduation rolls around, Loki is enrolled in the MFA program and so is Thor. Sif is done with school for now, but she gets a decent job in town and settles down in a cute little apartment. She has them over a couple of times a month; Loki cooks everyone dinner.

Volstagg and Hilde are pregnant with twins, which will bring their (running; the two of them are like rabbits, and there’s no way they’re done) total to four children under three years old. Thor is a little horrified. Loki teases Volstagg about founding a commune; Thor is _more_ horrified, but their friends – because Volstagg and his wife _are_ friends now, to both of them – just laugh it off.

It’s a skill they could all stand to learn.

Tony takes over his father’s business, the way they’d always known he would. He still has parties; Thor and Loki generally skip them, though; their lives are just too busy.

Fandral (gets drunk at one of said parties, yet again, and) has sex. In the hot tub, to hear it told, with a man. Thor and Loki have done such a thorough job greasing the skids, though, that no one really says anything. “It’s a miracle,” Loki says, and Thor can’t help but agree with him.

~

By halfway through grad school, they’re selling enough bowls to break even. They have a website; the advertising copy is full of graceful, tasteful (and yes, nude… but you can’t actually see anything beyond the sculpted lines of his muscled legs and buttocks) black-and-white photographs of Loki dancing. Everyone who buys a bowl gets an autographed 4x6” card stock photo.

Thor thinks people are buying the pictures, not the bowls. Loki just laughs it off. He pats Thor’s cheek and says “you’re adorable.”

Jerry turns out to be quite adept at packing and shipping and picking up printed copy and otherwise making bowls (and _naked pictures of Loki_ ) appear exactly when and where they’re supposed to. He helps build an exhibition booth and does all the planning; Thor and Loki are a disaster at their first exhibit, but they sell out at their second. “Actually, it is,” he insists, when Thor muses out loud about how it’s nothing like caretaking. “You’d be surprised.”

~

It’s not an easy life to navigate. Thor is too stubborn and Loki is too prickly. They swing out and back like planets in orbit, each of them caught far too securely in the other one’s gravitational pull to have any real hope of escaping.

Which is fine; they don’t actually want to get away from each other anyway.

~

Thor keeps his promise and Loki gets his wish; the years go by, and no one does any leaving.

~

“What do you think,” Loki asks as they sit side-by-side on the mossy rock pile. He picks three raspberries and pops one into his own mouth before feeding the other two, a little messily, to his brother. The juice is sweet and warm. “Did things come out the way you wanted th- ooooh, look!” He tugs Thor close and points to the rapidly retreating chipmunk. “Did you see that?”

Thor thinks back to a day long, long ago, when the two of them had sat _exactly here_ and plotted their ill-fated _barn invasion_. A day when everything had been fresh and innocent and new. He licks his sticky lips and then twists to kiss his brother’s tangled hair. “No,” he says fondly. “They came out better.”


End file.
